A Few Drinks Later
by KricketWilliams
Summary: The morning after a huge celebration, Garcia, Prentiss, and JJ wake up to more than they bargained for. A take on The Hangover Sort of . As usual, I don't own a thing.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: I have a challenge story I am working on, but this idea came in and I couldn't shake it...I thought of some crazy ideas with this story. It was going to be a one shot, but then I thought...probably not! Still deciding on sub-romances and writing as I go along. What would you like to see? Remember: be careful with how much you drink the next time you party…You may get more than you bargained for…_

* * *

><p><em>Present time...<em>

Through her befuddled brain, Penelope could barely make out the sounds of someone retching. It wasn't a pleasant sound to wake up to. Groggily, she made to roll over and hug the pillow tighter around her head, but soreness above her butt on her hip stopped her.

And then it penetrated her thoughts enough to realize someone she cared about was puking.

Tugging the pillow off her head, she was _blinded by light_, just like the Manfred Mann song. Flashing neon lights that reminded her she of exactly where she was...

A hotel. In Las Vegas. For JJ's last hurrah as a single team member.

An immediate, painful throbbing began, and her stomach roiled in protest. Oh, heavens…what had she drunk last night?

The sound of retching, this time completed with the splashing sound of solid objects hitting the toilet water, turned her stomach even more and made her hurry. She squinted her eyes shut, reached for the nightstand where her faithful glasses should be laying, and put them on her face. Gingerly, she sat up and opened her eyes.

Her beautiful blonde best girlfriend was kneeling by the porcelain bowl, resting her face on her forearm.

"Jayje?" Penelope croaked, her throat dry, sore, and hoarse. She tried to swallow the cotton in her mouth and continued, "You okay, buttercup?"

"Nooooooo," JJ moaned pitifully. "Someone take me out back and put me out of my misery, please. You can borrow my gun...it's at home in the safe."

Before Penelope could protest, a loud snore came from the floor behind where she was standing. She turned to see the very long legs, lacy bikini panties, and matching black lace bra of Emily Prentiss. At least, she thought it was Emily; the little black dress Prentiss had worn was now turned inside out and stuck on her head, as if it had given her too much trouble to completely remove it.

Another snore was interrupted by a nonsensical word that sounded similar to "Glurgh."

"Prentiss, you okay?" Garcia called out, concerned about her other friend, too.

In a lightning fast move, Emily sat up and began to frantically tug the tight lycra dress off her head. After a short struggle, she flung the offensive dress away, and then sat in the middle of the floor. Her hair resembled a cross between a rooster's comb and a rat's nest, and she had a look of utter dismay on her face.

"What in the hell happened last night?" she snapped, and then scowled as she brought both hands to her temples.

"I know," JJ said, coming out of the bathroom, looking forlorn.

Em shot her a falsely optimistic look with a grin that resembled a cringe. "It was all just a really weird dream, wasn't it?"

JJ shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid not."

A panicked look settled on Garcia's face as she reached a hand to touch her exposed hip, but Emily just scoffed disbelievingly.

"I just need coffee," she chanted. "If I have some coffee, everything will be clear and back to normal. Yes, I need coffee—"

"Emily!" JJ snapped, grabbing Prentiss's shoulders firmly. "You can't compartmentalize this! It's all true—every last second of it."

Emily hung her head and took a deep breath. "I'm never going to be able to face them again…"

"Yes, you will," JJ said, hugging her friend, and then looked impossibly sad, her big blue eyes filling with tears. "But I'm not sure if I am marrying Will…"

"I only want to know why my hip hurts so much," Penelope groaned, still fingering the spot. She tried to look over her shoulder, but she couldn't see the area in question.

When she looked back at both of her friends, their faces were blank in astonishment.

"What?" Penelope asked, uncharacteristically scowling.

"PG…you don't remember?" Em questioned warily. At Penelope's sustained blank look, she continued, "The tattoo parlor?"

Penelope's eyes grew huge, far too large for her colorful frames. "Oh no…What is it?"

The idea of a tattoo didn't really bother Penelope. She'd always wanted one, but she'd been too scared to do it. Kevin had thought it would be cute, too, to get a little heart or a butterfly. They weren't tacky anymore. Derek, who was always in style, had a million of them all over the place.

However, the look on JJ's face made her worry.

"It's not what it is, Garcie…it's what it says."

The fuzzy memory of going to the tattoo parlor, of wanting some words—"_Like Gaga's Sanskrit!"—_came back to her. That could be cool…

And then she remembered what she'd asked them to write.

Penelope gasped and ran into the bathroom. A second later, she cried, "Oh God, no…oh, dear God!"

Tattooed for all posterity on her posterior were the words: _#IheartDM_


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Thanks for the reviews. After asking the question here and on facebook, I have determined who to mix with JJ and Prentiss...However, never fear...just because I played a little with Prentiss's and JJ's mates doesn't mean I will be mixing up Morgan and Garcia ever—they're stuck with each other*wink*..._

* * *

><p><em>Two weeks earlier...<em>

It was late on a Friday afternoon. Most everyone was sitting around, waiting for the end of a long, rather hellacious, but still satisfying week. That was the way it was when you were part of a team that hunted the worst of the worst in society.

Penelope Garcia came stomping into the bullpen, carrying armloads of magazines, wearing a scowl on her face and four inch heels on her feet. She announced as she approached, "Who needs kitchenware?"

"Kitchenware, baby?" Derek asked, turning from his perch on the corner of Prentiss' desk to ask his question.

Immediately, Penelope handed him a magazine and growled, "Order something."

While Morgan stared at the magazine, Penelope continued to hand her magazines out, still looking none too pleased.

"Uh...why kitchenware, Garcia?" Reid asked, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. Garcia was not a very talented chef. It didn't take a genius to recognize it; it was common knowledge in the BAU.

"Because I did a stupid favor for _someone_," she said, pretend glaring at Derek, before thrusting a magazine at JJ, "and because I did that favor on the night that I had my group and had to ask a favor of someone _else_ for a few hours, I suddenly felt like I had to volunteer to host that person's Fancy Food party."

"Who?" Prentiss asked.

"Kelly."

"Kelly Johnson?" Derek questioned, looking up from the magazine.

Penelope nodded in agreement. "The tech I work with. She was having a Fancy Food party, and no one else was signing up to throw a party, and she looked so forlorn," Garcia explained, shaking her head sadly. "I felt like I had to do it."

Prentiss winced sympathetically. "Guilt by association."

"I would've volunteered, too," JJ added with a nod.

"I wouldn't have," Derek said with a chuckle, snapping the magazine shut and handing it to Penelope. "She liked watching Clooney."

Penelope's eyes widened. "What?"

He shrugged. "She told me she liked watching my dog, and she would get together with me any time to watch him again."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "That has nothing to do with Clooney, and you know it."

He put his hands up defensively. "Hey, I'm just repeating what she—"

"Stop!" Penelope whacked him with the magazine. "Just buy a potato peeler or something!"

He grinned wickedly, and then leaned in and cupped her cheek. "Did I ever tell you I love you for babysitting Clooney?"

She pouted, but her eyes were smiling. "That makes it a little better, I suppose..."

Prentiss rolled her eyes and asked, "What night is the party?"

"January twenty-seventh. It's a Friday," Pen said. "It's all women, so Reid and Rossi, you two don't have to go—"

"Hallelujah," Dave said, picking up his magazine to leave. "I'll order something, kitten, okay?"

Penelope smiled at him. "Thanks, big guy." She turned toward her girls. "You and JJ are coming for sure, right?"

Em shook her head with amusement. "Sadly, I have nothing better to do but hang with Sergio. So, yeah. I'm in." She glanced at JJ. "Jayje?"

"Ah...I can't that day," JJ said, the words sounding very forced and unnatural. She swallowed and started to flush as everyone turned to look at her. Even Rossi, who was ten steps towards the door, had stopped in his tracks.

Penelope frowned. "Hey, peaches, you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, but she held her fingers together tightly.

"Why can't you go?" Reid asked.

JJ smiled, but it looked rather constrained. "Because I am getting married that day."

Everyone's jaw dropped at the same time. JJ and Will had been together for a very long time, but their relationship had been very rocky from day one. It was expected that someday, they might get married for the sake of their son, Henry, but not anytime soon.

Penelope was the first to recover. She hugged JJ excitedly and said, "Congratulations, Jayje! I'm so happy for you!"

JJ blushed and smiled naturally that time. "Thanks."

Prentiss hugged JJ. "Whoa, good surprise there! Congratulations!"

"Yes, congratulations, JJ," Reid added.

Morgan smiled. "Congrats."

Prentiss gave her an odd look. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I don't know," JJ said, sighing and shrugging. "It's not a really huge thing."

"Getting married?" Garcia said, her eyes like saucers behind her pink square frames. "That's enormous!"

JJ chuckled. "I know that, but it's fine. We're not making it a really big thing. It's what we should've done before Henry was born."

"Is that what you want, JJ?" Rossi asked softly, taking a step closer. He looked surprised and concerned.

Rossi had played a big part in bringing her back to the BAU, and in the months since she'd returned to the BAU, JJ had become Rossi's protege. He'd taken her under his wing and helped develop her skills as a profiler. He was also the most intuitive member of the team, and from his expression, he sensed something wasn't right.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, catching Rossi's gaze. "It's the right thing to do."

"Then I'm very happy for you. Congratulations, Jennifer," he said with a faint smile, before walking away.

"A church on a Friday?" Morgan asked. "How'd you swing that?"

JJ shook her head. "It's not a church. We're going to the justice of the peace."

"Wow," Emily added with a low whistle. "Really?"

"It's fine, really!"

Penelope noticed that JJ kept saying she was _fine_. Everything seemed _fine_ to her...but her eyes didn't sparkle like with excitement like someone who was really _fine_ with the whole proceedings. Not only that, when she and JJ had talked weddings and romance, JJ had always mentioned big churches and white dresses and Henry in a little ring bearer tux. Not a very _fine_ JOP quickie job.

"Are you having a reception?" Reid asked.

"Just having dinner with Will and Henry afterward," JJ said. She glanced around the room. "I'm not making a big deal, guys, honest."

"Oh, no," Penelope announced. "You cannot be the first married person in the BAU—"

"Hotch was married," Reid interjected.

"He's not now!" she said, glaring him into silence before turning back to JJ. "As I was saying, you cannot lose your single status and not go out with a bang."

"A bang?" JJ asked, with a finely arched blonde brow.

"A big kaboom," Penelope explained with a nod. "We're having a team farewell to singlehood party!"

Prentiss grinned. "Now you're talking! It would be a blast, Jayje. Cocktails, dancing, uninhibited fun..."

"Sounds like Vegas," Reid grumbled.

"Exactly!" Penelope squeaked, jumping up and down in excitement. "Let's go to Vegas! Let it all hang out and get wild."

"Vegas?" Now JJ's eyes were enormous. "I don't know if I can with Will, and—"

"Oh, come on," Penelope pleaded, her crooked, mischievous grin making JJ smile in return. "I'll ditch Kevin for that weekend, you ditch Will, and we can be footloose and fancy free."

"Yes, JJ, let's do it!" Emily added, sounding as excited as Penelope.

JJ bit her bottom lip. "I don't know..."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks so much, everyone, for the reviews. Like any good romantic comedy, I am laying some groundwork here with our couples...hang in there, we get to the tattoo in a few short days story time...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

_Wednesday Night before the Party..._

"I don't know how she did it," JJ murmured, rather awestruck, while she sat in her seat on the BAU jet bound for a two day seminar in Vegas for the FBI, "but I am pretty sure Garcia had a hand in this."

Emily arched a fine brow. "Do you really _want_ to know?"

"Maybe she didn't?" Reid commented with a questioning smile on his face. "Hotch had been talking about learning credits—"

JJ shot him a disbelieving look. "A two day seminar in Vegas that ends on the weekend before my wedding?"

Reid frowned slightly as he began to spout facts. "Ninety-three percent of conferences do end—"

"And how many of those FBI conferences require a technical analyst to attend?" Prentiss interrupted, pointing to the back of the plane.

Reid glanced over his shoulder and saw where Morgan and Garcia were sitting, intertwined, doing something like thumb wrestling.

He sat back, opened his book, and said, "I don't have a clue how she does it."

* * *

><p>"There!" Morgan declared triumphantly, sneaking his thumb on top of both of Penelope's. "Got you again. Now tell me…how'd you get this gig set up?"<p>

Garcia blinked guiltily. "I didn't—"

"Baby Girl," he said sweetly. "I won fair and square. I even let you use two hands. You owe me a forfeit."

Huffing out enough air that her bangs shimmied in the breeze she produced, she grumbled and said, "Suppose I did see this seminar, thought of JJ, and worked some magic with the already closed pre-registration databases before I showed the boss man…"

"I _knew_ it!" Derek crowed.

"That didn't mean Hotch would automatically accept!" she snapped back, and then crossed her arms over her chest. "I did have to sell it, you know."

Morgan's eyes twinkled as he tapped her nose with a long finger. "Baby, you could sell ice to an Eskimo."

"That she could," Rossi remarked, taking a seat across from them. Usually, Hotch and Rossi prepared or debriefed cases on the plane, but since there was no case, Rossi was free to move about the cabin.

"Aww, thanks, Super Agent," Penelope gushed, smiling at Dave.

"What are the plans for you two in Vegas?" He automatically assumed Morgan and Garcia would be together in Sin City. They were as thick as thieves, with one of the oddest somewhat platonic relationships he'd ever seen.

Derek waggled his brows at Penelope. "Sky's the limit, sweetness. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

Penelope shook her head regretfully. "Sorry, love bug, but as much as I'd like to touch the sky with you, I have plans for JJ, Em, and me."

Those movable brows shot downward in a hurry. "Why not me?"

Rolling her eyes, she said, "D, you don't want to be part of our send off to JJ getting married."

"Why not?" he answered. "I'm always up for a great party."

"It's a bachelorette!"

"Uh uh," Derek argued. "That ain't what you said. It's a send off. A _team_ send off. I'm part of the team, so…"

Dave chuckled. "Give it up, Morgan. You're not winning this one."

"In reality, he has a point," Reid said, unable to withstand from a debate—good or bad. "When Garcia first mentioned this get together a couple of weeks ago, she mentioned the team. That would be all of us."

Garcia waved him away as he sat. "You, shoo."

"I'm buying Morgan a penis hat," Prentiss said, taking a seat next to Reid. "If you want to be involved in a bachelorette party, then you have to dress the part."

"Oh, hell, no," Morgan said, shooting a curious glance Prentiss's way. "Come over to help defend the sisterhood over here?"

"As if PG needs my help," Em scoffed. "I am over here because JJ is on the phone with her fiance. It sounded rather heated, so I thought I would give them some space."

"Everything okay?" Garcia asked, concern written in her face.

It was common knowledge among the team that Will and JJ did not always see eye to eye. He had radically different ideas on parenting and relationships than JJ had. Being in such close quarters on a jet, the team had seen just about everything—the good, the bad, and the very ugly. For instance, Will wasn't afraid to be vocal about some things, ending in yelling matches over video phone, and just as quiet about other things when he was angry, refusing to talk to JJ or even answer her calls. However, JJ always had excuses and always worked things out, and did seem to genuinely love Will.

Prentiss shrugged. "As far as I can tell, the wedding is still on."

"Back to our party, then," Morgan said with a canary-eating grin. "No penis hats, however, we can do the nudie bars and a shit load of drinks. Reid's driving-" He emphasized the phrase by pointing his thumb in Reid's direction "-so we don't need to worry."

"Um, actually, I'm planning on visiting my mother," Reid explained. "I'm afraid you will need to get a different sober cab this time."

Derek pulled a sour face. "Really? We get two nights in Vegas, and you're seeing your mother?"

"It's her birthday," Reid answered defensively. "If we had those same two nights in Chicago over your mother's birthday, where would you be?"

Derek grumbled and sat back in his seat.

"How are you going to get there?" Prentiss asked. The home where Reid's mother resided was a good hour drive from downtown Vegas.

"I'm taking him," Hotch answered matter-of-factly. "As for JJ's preplanned party for Friday—" He turned his gaze to Garcia and arched a brow, making her guilty as charged.

Penelope paled immediately, and her blue eyes were huge behind her colorful frames. "Sir, I didn't…no, I mean, I did, but I…oh, shoot."

Looking at the rest of the group, with some amusement, he continued, "Remember, we need to be wheel's up no later than ten am Saturday."

"Sure thing," Morgan said, smiling at Garcia. "I'll watch out for them."

Hotch gave him a scrupulous look. "With you in Vegas, I don't think so."

Morgan frowned. "Hey, I only had that one crazy time here, and you condemn me."

"What time?" Garcia immediately asked, her attention focused completely on Morgan.

"He's not coming with us, anyway," Prentiss remarked, smiling up at Hotch.

"Excellent. I knew you'd see reason," Hotch replied. "Prentiss, I am going to entrust to you that JJ and Penelope make it onto the plane. Rossi, you have Morgan. Is that okay?"

The light left Prentiss' eyes, but she doubted that anyone noticed. "Yeah...I mean, yes. That's fine."

"I am not babysitting two hundred pounds of born again frat boy," Rossi grumbled, and then glared at Morgan. "You. Get your ass on the plane by nine. Capice?"

"I'm planning on it!" Morgan snapped back, and then smiled over at Penelope. "Besides, we will probably have an early night with the girls."

Standing, Rossi rolled his eyes. "Keep me out of this," he muttered, before walking away to a quieter seat.

The others left the back of the plane, too, allowing for the upcoming argument that was going to happen between Morgan and Garcia. Most everyone on the plane could tell that Morgan was just teasing _but_ Penelope. She was in the dark when it came to her best friend's teasing sometimes and took things far too literally—which, of course, was the reason he continued it so much.

"Arrgh!" Penelope growled. "You are _not_ going with!"

"What's the matter?" he teased. "Afraid I'll teach you something you didn't know about partying?"

"I don't think so," she retorted. "I can out dance, out party, out drink you any day of the week."

Derek chucked. Knowing his girl, he knew _exactly_ what a lightweight she was. He didn't even need to say words; that chuckle said it all.

"I mean it!" she said, standing up quickly, but the movement of the plane caused her to sit right back down…on Morgan's lap.

"Careful, sweetheart," he murmured, holding her hips to steady her, before helping her back to her seat.

And as she sat back down, all the bluster left her, along with her ability to speak.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Thanks so much, and bless you all for reviewing. Goodness, that wasn't easy to do, was it? The system here at FF kept eating the last chapter. For those that adopted perseverance and left their reviews, I am so very grateful...Now onto the next chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

_The Thursday before the big night out..._

"JJ…can I ask you something?"

At the sound of Emily's voice, JJ wanted to cheer. She'd been waiting patiently for an entire day to figure out what was bothering Prentiss, and now it was going to pay off.

When Emily had returned to her seat yesterday on the plane, she'd had a look of contemplation. Her lips had been pursed, her eyebrows puckered, as she'd taken her seat across from JJ.

"Will…let me call you back," JJ had said, looking over at Emily.

Emily had shaken her head adamantly. "No…keep talking. No big deal."

JJ had levered a look at her and smothered the mouth piece of her cell on her shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

Emily hadn't looked fine. However, JJ knew her friend well. If she pressed, Emily would clam up even more and not say anything at all about what was bugging her. So, JJ had done what she did best and waited in a long-suffering manner for Prentiss to be ready to talk.

"Sure, Em," she said softly, sitting in the seminar next to her friend.

Emily turned on the hard chair and faced JJ. "Is there something about me that screams lap dog?"

JJ couldn't help it. She smirked just a bit, and her eyebrows went up in surprise. "Ah…no."

"Nothing that says comfortable, like a pair of old slippers?" Em asked, one eyebrow up in question.

"Prentiss, I don't think that's you at all," she answered honestly. Emily Prentiss was dynamic, mysterious, lovely, and quick witted, not at all what she was thinking for herself.

"Then why does Hotch think that of me?"

Whoa. JJ hadn't been expecting that at all. From the tone in Emily's voice, she sounded very hurt. It made JJ aware that her suspicions could be correct…Emily liked their boss.

In many of the girl talks they'd had, via internet chat when Em was out of town incognito and over coffee when she'd returned, she'd always asked about Hotch. She asked about the other team members first, asking if JJ had been in contact with them after her disappearance. She was interested to hear about how Morgan was doing, if he was grieving and if he and Penelope were helping each other, how Rossi was relating and if he seemed normal, and if Reid's headaches had receded or had gotten worse.

And then her voice would change, and she'd ask about Hotch….and if he'd asked about her.

JJ would need to tread carefully, or Emily would freeze immediately and she'd never be able to help. She didn't care about the gossip or anything like that; she cared about her friend.

So she simply asked, "Why would you say that?"

Prentiss tossed her hands up and dropped her pen in the process. "I don't know," she growled, bending over in her seat to pick up the discarded instrument. "Maybe I'm being too sensitive?"

JJ nodded. She couldn't imagine Hotch thinking Emily was a lap dog or a pair of slippers! "You are."

"Yeah," Em said, facing forward again. A second later, she turned back. "No. No, I'm not. He does."

"Shh!" a stuffy looking older man hissed from behind them.

"Sorry," JJ whispered, and then turned to her irate friend. "Em…why do you think that?"

"Because," she snipped, but quietly.

"Elaborate, please."

Em sighed heavily. "He asked me to watch out for everyone. Ol' reliable Prentiss—'I knew you'd see reason.'"

"Emily," JJ responded earnestly, "it means he respects your judgment and does find you reliable. That's an honor, really."

"Yes," she answered, her dark eyes radiating sadness, "but I don't make him smile like PG does. I don't make him laugh like Morgan does." She looked back at her paper and said more to herself than JJ, "I don't make him do anything."

"Emily, that's not true…"

Looking back up, Em said quickly, "Hey…I don't want you to feel bad for me. I couldn't stand your pity."

"I don't! I—"

"Shhh!" the stately man said again.

JJ turned and snapped, "Can it, mister!"

The man turned red with embarrassment and sputtered with indignity.

Cringing internally, JJ faced Emily again. "Listen, we need to talk about this. Let's get out of here, and—"

Emily shook her head adamantly before JJ had even finished speaking. "No, we don't. I already know what I need to do. I need to spice it up, change things around...be a different Emily."

JJ's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, Em, don't do that—"

Emily sat forward and crossed her legs and arms in a classic defensive pose even people who weren't profilers understood…and JJ knew at that moment, nothing was changing Prentiss' mind.

* * *

><p>The seminars ended at five sharp. The BAU team had agreed to meet outside in the atrium of the hotel's convention center, and then they were going to hit one of the premiere restaurants in the town. Prentiss and JJ were first to arrive, followed shortly after by Hotch and Rossi, and then Morgan and Reid.<p>

Morgan quickly scanned the waiting group and asked the question everyone knew he'd ask. "Where's my baby girl?"

"Obviously not here," Prentiss remarked, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Her seminar might have lasted longer than the rest of ours," Reid interjected.

Just then, Garcia walked up to them, pale and wan, her face expressionless. She was walking slowly, like each step was hard to do.

"Kitten…what's the matter?" Rossi asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Remind me never, ever, to attend one of these things ever, ever_, ever_ again," Garcia mumbled, her lips unnaturally red against her ashen skin. After a second, she unnecessarily added, "Ever."

"Aw, Baby," Derek said, folding her into his arms. She curled into his embrace like she always did and buried her face in his shirt. "What happened?"

As if she zapped her strength from Derek, she was back to her animated self in a moment's time. "It was awful, D!" she cried. "I signed myself up for that class, thinking it was going to be a breeze. _Imaging for Analysts_ sounded so innocent. Oh, I was so wrong!"

"How?" Reid asked, perpetually curious.

Penelope looked over at Reid excitedly. "It was all about perfecting crime scene photo imaging on the Z-43689, series X base operating system—which I know already, so I knew it would be uber easy, and—"

"Garcia," Hotch said, keeping her on track and chastising her for taking a class that was too simple, all with one innocuous word.

"Sorry, sir." Penelope had the good graces to flush just a little, and then she paled again as she continued. "First hour was about detail imaging. We used satellite photos and surveillance photos from stores—you know, like Kwik-E marts and all that stuff—but then…"

She shuddered and stopped talking.

"Crime scene photos," Prentiss guessed correctly.

"How many photos were there?" Rossi asked.

Penelope gave a queasy smile at Rossi. "Enough to make me not want to eat anything tonight in this land of endless buffets and one armed bandits."

Rossi whistled low. "So much for the mile-o-food over there…"

"Sorry, guys," Penelope said sadly, looking at the group.

"It's okay, Garcie," JJ said quickly, stating the sentiments of the whole group.

Derek cupped her chin in his hand, bringing her gaze to his. "Sweetheart, you just want some soup or something?"

Penelope nodded again.

Derek looked at everyone else. "Hey, we'll see you all later."

"Feel better," Prentiss called out as they disappeared around some lively plants in the atrium.

"Tell me again why those two aren't a couple?" Rossi quipped, shaking his head in dismay.

"Some dufus named Kevin Lynch," Prentiss remarked, and then said, "What are we all doing for supper?"

"Actually, I am thinking of heading to a museum in town," Reid said, sounding rather excited. "There's this interesting display that I wanted to see related to human cadavers and anthropology that's only here for a short period of time. Since I won't be in town tomorrow after the seminars..." His voice trailed off, suggestively hopeful in his tone.

"That's fine, Reid," Hotch said simply.

Reid beamed, and then looked sheepishly at everyone else. "If you all don't mind?"

Rossi chuckled and waved him away. "Go on, time's a-wasting."

Prentiss asked, "So, what are we all doing?"

"I know a great, cozy, intimate Italian spot in town," Rossi added quickly.

JJ stared at him. "Do you know where all the Italian restaurants are in the US?"

He grinned at her. "Except Alaska and Hawaii…"

Hotch was grinning, but as if perfectly timed by some weird god of fate, his cell rang. He took it out, and then frowned at the screen. "It's Strauss. I have to get this…"

"We can wait," Emily offered helpfully.

He shook his head. "This could take awhile. Go ahead without me."

Emily watched Hotch walk away, her shoulders slumping so slightly, only a trained profiler could tell her disappointment.

Unfortunately for her, she was surrounded by them.

"Em?" JJ asked, sounding happy, but concern clearly in her blue eyes. "Ready for Italian?"

Prentiss shook her head. "I changed my mind. I'm going to eat light tonight."

"Are you sure?" Rossi asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure I'm going shopping." Prentiss turned and smiled with a determined grin. "I think I need a new little black dress…"


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Thanks so much for all the reviews. You guys rock! I am on cloud nine from the press release about 7x13...Thanks, Shari!...Thanks to HxChick for her *thumbs up* on my JJ-I don't write a lot of her, and I want to do all the characters justice, so her reassurance, as well as JenRar's, made a world of difference..._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

The crowd at Giorgio's Ristorante was very busy, even though it was off the strip somewhat and in a more residential area. That didn't surprise Dave; the food was indeed excellent, and the service was top notch—at, least from what he remembered when he'd come there with Caroline years ago.

When he'd entered the eatery with JJ on his arm, he'd expected to feel somewhat melancholy...but he hadn't. Instead, he'd laughed with her about the crazy cab ride they'd had there and discussed the conferences they'd attended.

Although it had been an hour wait so far, it had seemed like nothing. Time had passed so quickly, far faster than he had expected it to. Usually, that was one of the worst parts of a date—the long silent periods when neither party had anything to say. He never seemed to run out of topics of discussion tonight.

Then again, this wasn't a regular date. This was JJ, his colleague and his friend. She may have looked the part of who he'd dated—or wished he could date—but she wasn't a date. It wasn't from a lack of attraction on his side, either. He liked cool blondes, ones with Nordic appeal. Homegrown, California style girls that looked good in a sports car. JJ had that going for her. Hell, she had everything going for her: looks, charm, appeal, humor, and intelligence.

That Will LaMontagne was a lucky sonofa—

"Rossi party?" the hostess called, interrupting his unreasonable string of thoughts.

After being seated, they ordered wine, a good Italian red, and placed an order for bruchetta and calamari, two things Dave was certain were excellent.

Or had been excellent twenty years ago.

He glanced at his table mate. How old would she have been then? Twelve? Thirteen, if he was being overly generous? Thinking of their age difference always stifled any ridiculous thoughts in his head that he'd had...like making moves on yet another bad FBI romantic choice in a career of many heartbreaks. There were reasons the FBI prohibited interoffice romance; he was a main reason.

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you knew a great Italian place," JJ said after taking a bite of the warm, crusty garlic bread that was served with every meal at Giorgio's. "This is incredible."

"Wait until you try the pasta," he said, reaching for a piece for himself.

JJ's eyes were twinkling with satisfaction. She enjoyed life, savored it. It was something he liked about her—

Shit! He needed to stop thinking like that. He hadn't had romantic feelings about JJ in forever. Knowing she was with Will, knowing that she had a young son with the man kept him far away, and commonsensical. This was ridiculous. He didn't chase married women—hadn't in his past and wouldn't now. Just because he was in a romantic little hideaway with a gorgeous blonde with sky blue eyes didn't mean he needed to lose his head or let loose his libido.

The sommelier returned to the table with the wine they'd ordered, and both took a sip of the ruby fluid, declaring it acceptable. He poured the wine before leaving them again in privacy. Giorgio's had booth seating that was secluded, no matter how busy the restaurant became. It was great for conversation and offered an intimate dining experience.

Dave groaned to himself...this wasn't going to be good.

* * *

><p>"Too bad Prentiss didn't come with," JJ said, taking a larger sip of her wine. This was one of the most romantic restaurants she'd ever been in. It was glorious, with rich décor and an ambiance to die for. It was definitely some place she'd expect from David Rossi...the king of suave and urbane.<p>

He peered at her over his glass, his onyx pinky ring catching the candlelight and tossing sparkles across the cherry wood table. "What was up with Prentiss? She didn't seem like herself."

JJ attempted coolness, but knew that he could tell she was attempting to hide things. Dave was the best of the best, after all. He _made_ the science of reading people.

"Dave, something is up with Emily, but I can't exactly say," she said, being bluntly honest. "It's a man/woman thing. To say something..."

She let her voice trail off, but knew she didn't have to. Before she could completely finish, Dave said, "I understand."

Honesty. She'd always had a completely honest relationship with Dave. He'd helped her so much in the past few months since she'd returned as a profiler, partially because of his honesty. At first, it had hurt somewhat, knowing she'd done wrong and couldn't quite cut the mustard. However, then she'd listened to his instructions, took the opportunities for growth, and started making the grade. As she grew in understanding, she'd become something she'd always wanted to be...

A profiler.

Yes, he could be brutally direct. Dave Rossi wasn't the type to pussyfoot around issues or play games, and she was grateful for it. She had a lot of that in her home life; it was refreshing to have the opposite at work.

"Jennifer," he said, and she caught him staring at her. "Are you okay?"

She sighed softly, and then said, "Long day. Sharing a room with Garcia and Prentiss is not a picnic, trust me."

Rossi grinned. "At least you don't have Morgan. He snores."

"He does not!" she crowed with a chuckle, thinking of the second suavest man in the FBI snoring loudly, and then asked, "Really?"

Dave laughed, too, and said, "Let me tell you about it..."

* * *

><p>An entire bottle of wine and an appetizer later, both of them were laughing and having a good time. However, Dave noticed that JJ's cheeks were just the slightest bit ruddy from the wine, and her blue eyes were getting somewhat glassy. Food. She needed food to soak up some of the wine they'd drunk.<p>

Dave flagged the manager, who came quickly to the table. "Excuse me."

"Yes, sir. Can I help you?" the young man asked.

"Yes. It's been"—he paused and glanced at his watch—"forty-one minutes since we placed our order, and we haven't even had more than our appetizers yet."

"I'm sorry, sir. We've had an issue come up with one of our ovens breaking down, but we are working to resolve it," the manager replied. "If I may, can I offer you another bottle of wine, compliments of the house, and free dessert?"

He glanced over at JJ, who gave him a look of compassion and nodded her agreement. He turned back and said, "Yes, that would be fine."

"Poor place," she murmured as the manager scurried off. "Must be miserable to be busy like this and down an oven. I worked at a pizza place in college, and it was terrible when we had one of our ovens go out."

"A pizza place, Jennifer?" he asked, and watched as she gave him a coy smile.

"Mmm hmm. DeMori's on the NYU campus," JJ answered.

That surprised Dave. "DeMori's? I had their pizza a million times."

"I know," she said with a Cheshire cat grin, taking a sip of her wine. "I saw you there."

Dave almost needed to check his jaw to make sure it hadn't fallen open. He then shook his head in disagreement. "Oh, no. I would've remembered you."

She shook her head. "You didn't. You would come in after giving a lecture at one of my criminology classes, and I'd watch you."

"Watch me?" he asked, picking up his glass of wine, but not daring to take a sip. He was fascinated by what she was saying, amazed and spellbound.

"You were amazing," she said with a teasing grin. "Come on, you had to have known all of us college girls had a crush on you."

For not the first time in his life, Dave was glad for his swarthy coloring. He could feel his cheeks heating, amazed that this beautiful woman had once had a crush on _him_...and he hadn't even known it. Had he been blind or foolish back then?

Or just young?

He took a sip of wine and said nonchalantly, "I knew I had a few fans."

She chuckled softly, in a way that told him he'd gravely underestimated himself. "Fans? You had _groupies_, Dave."

"Were you one of them?" he asked calmly, trying to hide his rather awed surprise.

She shook her head, her blonde hair shimmering in the candlelight. "No...but I wanted to know you."

"Why?"

"I...I don't know." She blushed for a second, and then took another sip of her wine. "I think it was because you were legendary. You exuded power, intelligence, passion. I remember sitting in that lecture hall, being mesmerized by your stories and your wit, wondering what it would be like to be near you...to touch you and see if you were real."

_Touch me now_, he wanted to say, offering her and himself a chance to live a dream, but he felt somewhat foolish, knowing that she had felt that way more than twenty years ago. He was different then, so different than he was now.

So instead, he chuckled and took another sip of wine, and then adopted a cavalier, devil-may-care tone to protect his heart. "And now that you have been near me, did it live up to the expectations you had?"

"No, Dave, it didn't," she said, looking at him straight on. "It far surpassed it."

For a moment, the air around them sizzled and crackled with unsaid words and feelings. He could feel it, feel the tension. His heart was racing, and he knew nothing and everything. His world was topsy turvy...crazy incredible. This could be life-changing, and for once in his life, he was overwhelmed, unprepared.

JJ seemed to be waiting for him, and he couldn't speak. Finally, she blinked, and then she looked away from him and took another sip of her nearly empty wineglass. When she smiled back at him again, he could tell the moment had passed...and he'd let it go.

She said lightheartedly, "You are the best of the best, Rossi. You know that."

Internally shaking his head in disgust at his cowardice, he said, "Glad you can recognize that, sweetheart."


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Thank you again for the reviews and for all of your support! You make telling a story a blast, and whoo hoo, this is fun with all these pairings!...Posting a little faster, because I have a resolution story I said I'd write-Penelope is giving up chocolate...hee hee!-and I want to get chapter one posted before January is done._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

_Later Thursday night..._

"I'm home!" Emily called out cheerfully, laden with bags after her wonderful shopping trip. First, she'd found a great hoagie sandwich with extra mustard and an icy Diet Coke, and then she'd found a spectacular designer black dress that was on sale for seventy percent off.

When she turned the corner, she was greeted by an unusual sight. Morgan, putting a finger up to his lips in the international symbol for quiet, was lying on the hotel bed Penelope shared with JJ, and Penelope was lying by his side, her arm curled around his lean waist and her cheek on his chest.

Prentiss placed her bags down. "You two look mighty cozy."

"She was tired," Morgan whispered. He was stroking Penelope's back softly, reverently, like he couldn't help but touch her.

Emily fought rolling her eyes. These two were ridiculous. They needed to fess up, see what everyone else saw, and get together before the rest of the team beat them silly...starting with Emily herself.

Sitting across from Derek, Prentiss said, "You need to tell her how you feel, Morgan."

He didn't bother to look up when he answered, "She knows how I feel about her."

"Morgan—"

Derek brought his finger to his lips again, however, Em knew this time it wasn't volume control...it was to shut her up. Being his partner, they'd gone round and round over this thing he had with Garcia for as many years as she'd worked for the FBI, and it still didn't make a difference in how he reacted. For some reason, he was fine to be in unrequited love with Garcia, although Emily knew in her bones it wasn't unanswered at all.

"Did you tell her that you loved her?" Prentiss pressed. Unlike herself, if she pushed hard enough, Morgan's clam shell opened up and his soft, gushy interior showed.

She sort of expected him to deny it; most men didn't announce that they loved someone. But then again, Morgan wasn't like most men when it came to Garcia. He wore his heart on his sleeve so obviously, he was ribbed pretty consistently by herself, Reid and Rossi. So she was surprised when she got an honest answer.

"Just about every day of my life," he grumbled, closing his eyes to ignore her, and hugging Penelope closer at the same time.

"Did you _really_ tell her?" Prentiss pushed, thinking there was more to the story. "Not that joking around crap you two do, but really, honestly—"

Derek opened his eyes and leveled them at Prentiss, and she immediately stopped talking. The look he had was intense and spoke of hurt she hadn't expected…and frustration: self-directed or directed at her, she didn't know.

"Yeah, I _really _told her, " he snapped. "Now lay off."

"Told me what?" Penelope asked, opening her eyes.

Derek's calm demeanor came back immediately. He kissed the top of her head. "Nothing you need to worry that brilliant mind of yours about, sweetness."

Prentiss' heart broke for him. Something there just wasn't right. If Garcia knew, how on Earth would she turn Morgan away? The man was crazy about her, far more than that dufus, Lynch. She wouldn't be so mean to lead him on if she knew how he felt; that wasn't Garcie's style.

Yawning first, Penelope smiled up at Morgan drowsily. "Sorry, angelfish, I fell asleep."

"I said you would," he chided, tapping her nose.

Sitting up with Derek's assistance, she asked Emily, "Did you get a cute dress?"

"A gorgeous dress," Em gushed. "I can show you, but first I have to let you know you got a call. I got it from the front desk."

Penelope frowned as she took the paper. "I wonder who called me?"

Derek chuckled. "I can give you three guesses…and they're all the same person. "

She opened the note. "It's Kevin. I'd better call him."

Derek stood. "I'd better leave."

"No, Hot Stuff, you don't have to go," she said quickly, reaching for his arm.

"Yeah, I do," he said quickly, and then smiled in a cavalier manner at them both. "It's early, and I am sure there's a showgirl just waiting for Derek Morgan's company tonight!"

Prentiss chuckled. "Have fun."

Garcia smiled, too, but it lacked her usual wattage. "Be careful out there."

"Don't you worry about me, momma bear," he said, winking before he stepped out. "I'll be all right."

When the door shut, Penelope turned slowly toward Prentiss, her expression showing intense dislike. "A showgirl? Is he crazy?"

"No, he's probably just horny," Prentiss answered, causing Penelope to scowl even more.

"I haven't heard the best things about showgirls," she continued. "They look emaciated, and they could be strung out on drugs. Didn't you see that awful movie with the chick from _Saved by the Bell_ years ago?"

The raging jealousy masked as concern in the room almost made Emily laugh. Damn, these two were pathetic.

Stirring the pot, she arched a brow at Garcia. "Shouldn't you be calling Kevin?"

Penelope's face fell, and Em felt bad being devil's advocate at that moment…but only slightly.

"Yes, I should—Derek!" she said, whirling back around as she heard the door open again.

"No…but I wish I were Morgan," JJ said, stepping in and shutting the door before leaning against it. "I wish I were anybody but me right now."

Penelope's cares must've been temporarily sidelined, because she immediately put an arm around JJ."Aw! Why, sweeting? What happened?"

JJ groaned and put her hands on her temples. She certainly couldn't tell her friends that she'd made a royal ass out of herself tonight, panting after David Rossi like a lovesick schoolgirl. What had she been thinking?

She wasn't thinking. The heady and sweet wine combined with the lack of food, the romantic ambiance of Giorgio's, _everything_ about the night added up to her acting like a fool. Somehow, in those few precious hours, she had been transported back to being twenty-three, just starting her life, without a lot of life's cares and worries.

Yes, she'd acted the fool and was served a heaping helping of humble pie.

It should've been a great night. She had an opportunity she'd always wanted—to go out on a dateless date with Rossi. She respected his knowledge base; he was legendary in his field. Somehow, in her befuddled thinking, she'd forgotten that he was also the one man she'd fantasized about when she was younger.

Other women in their twenties dreamed about no-necked sports heroes or rock stars with sock-stuffed groins, but Jennifer Jareau had never had those fantasies. Probably because her first boyfriend in high school had been a football player, the quintessential jock that Reid's _mean girls_ would date, and her second boyfriend had been a struggling musician who had looked the part with his long blond hair, but had virtually no talent whatsoever.

No, JJ had seen a charismatic FBI profiler speak in her criminology class and had fallen head over heels for him _and_ his craft. She hadn't lied; she hadn't been a groupie, but she had thought about him often and had been awestruck when she'd met him.

However, it was more than that. She wasn't lying when she'd said that the reality was better than the fantasy, either. Knowing Dave, the real man that he was—honest, insightful, forthright—added to his appeal. He was what she'd always wanted and had never reached for. Something in her was telling her to take a chance at what romance could be like. Somehow, she'd forgotten about everything else, had been tangled in the captivating web of his aura and her dreams, and she'd put her latent feelings on the line. Like a fool, she'd practically drooled in front of the man...and he'd stared at her and said nothing.

She'd forced conversation for a moment afterward, and Dave had been a true gentleman, acting like nothing had happened, but she felt like crawling into a hole. God, what he must've thought of her! She was an engaged woman, set to be married in a week, and she'd practically thrown herself at him, making no secret that she wanted him. How would she face him at work again? Even worse, how could she face him tomorrow at the seminars?

She closed her eyes and groaned. Why did that even matter? She should be thinking about her fiancé and the life she was going to have with him. If anything, this solidified for her that she should be with Will. Will was her reality, not a magical fantasy that was never meant to be. She never should've drifted there, never should've played this out. She loved Will.

"Jayje?" Prentiss asked. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the concern on her friend's face. "Are you okay?"

JJ nodded. "Yeah, I am now."

"Are you sure?" Garcie asked, flanking her on the other side.

JJ took a deep breath. "Trust me…everything's fine."


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: Thank you for the reviews and the wonderful response to this story...Now we're starting to see how the ladies ended up that way...(Ps. And I kinda think Reid stole the show...)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

_Friday night..._

"Are we all stoked and ready to party?" Emily announced, stepping out of the bathroom. It was seven pm, the conferences had all ended for the day, and she, Garcia, and JJ were back in their room, getting ready for their night out. Emily had just pulled on the dark, second skin, and sexy-as-sin lycra dress she'd purchased yesterday, and her hair and makeup were already done.

Garcia turned from the mirror to look at her friend. She let out a whistle and waggled her eyebrows in exaggerated lust. "Whoa, gorgeous! You're going to knock 'em dead tonight."

Em gave a sarcastic snort. "Knock who dead? I don't think I have anyone to impress there tonight."

"What are we?" Garcia inquired archly. "Chopped liver?"

JJ chuckled and said, "You two hash this out. I'm in the bathroom next."

It had been settled on after the conference that the BAU boys were not going to be hanging out the entire evening with the BAU girls. However, Rossi and Morgan did insist on taking the girls out for a few drinks and maybe a little howling—as Morgan called it—as their part of the team celebration for JJ's upcoming wedding.

As for Reid and Hotch, they were already en route to Reid's mother's sanitarium. Before they'd left, they'd said goodbye. Reid had stopped JJ and handed her a card and an envelope.

"_Although I can't be there tonight," he said with a softly teasing smile, "at least my money can be."_

_JJ looked surprised and touched. "Spence, you don't have to do this."_

"_I know, but I want to." He placed the envelope firmly in her hand, not allowing her to give it back. "Buy a round on me, so I can be there in spirit, please."_

_JJ cupped the side of his face tenderly with her finely boned hand. "You're something else, Dr. Reid."_

"_Of course." He winked at her. "I'm a genius—haven't you heard?"_

"_Come on, Reid, we need to go," Hotch said, smiling faintly, too. "I want to get __back tonight in time for__ one drink with __these ladies."_

"You go ahead," Penelope said, sitting on the bed to slide on her purple fishnet tights for the evening. Usually the first to be the major party animal of the girls' group, Garcia was feeling a bit down. It had started after JJ had returned last night, and she'd sneaked off to call Kevin...

"_Hi, Kevin."_

"_Penny!" he cried excitedly. "__I've__ missed you. Where have you been?"_

"_In seminars, hon," she explained. "One made me pretty green, so Morgan took me back to the __room, and—"_

"_Morgan? In your room?" he asked incredulously._

_Penelope giggled at her boyfriend's show of jealousy. "I was sick, Kevin."_

"_How sick?" Kevin inquired in an accusatory tone._

_His jealousy wasn't so cute anymore..._

"_He held my hair while I puked sick," she snapped rather sarcastically. "How's that?"_

"_Eh...ewwww," Kevin replied, and Garcia could practically see him backpedaling. "Ah...how do you feel now?"_

That was much better_, Penelope thought, and then answered, "I feel fine. We're going to really have fun at JJ's __bachelorette party." _

"_Not too much fun, though, right?"_

_Penelope frowned, wishing she was on video conference. Kevin __would never have said__ those words to her if __he was seeing her_vis a vis_...he wouldn't have dared. "What do you mean by that?"_

"_Not strippers and things like that, right?" he asked in that same hopelessly hopeful tone he'd used before._

_Penelope huffed silently. "Usually that's the kind of things you do for __bachelorette parties, Kevin__."_

"_I know," he said in a __moping__ manner. "But I kind of hoped you wouldn't..."_

"_Why?" she asked incredulously._

"_I don't __know," he__ said quickly. "I guess I just don't like to think of my sweetie sweet sweet off watching nearly naked, muscle bound men sweating and flexing their __muscles—"_

"_I watch Morgan at the gym all the __time, and__ you never say a word about it."_

"_That's different," he scoffed, completely blowing her off. "It's Morgan. He's harmless."_

_For some reason, that bothered her. It wasn't that different. She'd drool at the strippers tonight just like she drooled at Derek when he pulled off his tank top after his workouts, those gorgeous muscles rippling, looking like they needed a good rubdown by a qualified masseuse—and she'd be willing to get her massage license for that!_

"_Anyway," Kevin continued, knocking her out of her rather inappropriate reverie __she was having while on the phone with her lover, "everyone knows you and Morgan aren't like that."_

"_I know," she snipped. Of course even she knew Morgan was way out of her league. A person with no IQ at all would realize that! She __recognized that her__ tone had been cranky, so she teased, "Afraid I'll run off with a Chippendale?"_

_He scoffed again. "Mercy, no! Those men have been around. They might have diseases or something."_

_Penelope groaned internally, thinking about how she'd thought the same thing about Morgan's __showgirls__. Lord, if __she'd__ sounded anything like Kevin, she'd sounded ridiculous._

"_Then what is your problem?" she asked._

"_I don't like you looking at __perfection, and__ then coming back to me," he answered honestly, and a part of her felt that was tender and sweet...until he continued, "I mean, how would you feel if I looked at strippers with perfect butts, flat tummies, and breasts that didn't droop?" _

_He couldn't have hurt her more if he had tried, and the sad thing was he _wasn't _trying to hurt her. It was just...Kevin._

"_We probably won't," she answered tersely, trying not to let it hurt too badly. He didn't mean it; he really didn't. "I have to go to bed __now."_

"_Oh. Okay. Good," he said, not noticing the change in her tone. "Goodnight, Penny. Love you."_

"_Love you, too," __she muttered absentmindedly, and__ then hung up the phone._

Now, as she sat on the bed, she was wishing her tights were control top and her bra was a Wonderbra. Unfortunately for her, neither of them were.

Prentiss sat next to her and crossed her long, thin legs, making Penelope feel even worse. "So...what's the plan?"

She sighed and forced a happy smile at Em. "Let's just get dinner and drinks with the boys and see where it goes from there."

Em arched a brow at her quizzically. "PG...you okay?"

She sighed and told a half truth. "Kevin is just not real happy that I am going out and doing this tonight."

"Ah," Em answered knowingly. "The joys of having a mate—they get jealous and stupid. Just ignore him."

Penelope smiled back at her. "That's good advice. I think I will..."

A half hour later, JJ stepped out of the bathroom in a beautiful wine red dress that showed her delicate figure to perfection, and Penelope had finished putting on her fuchsia bustier dress and makeup and had done the finishing touches to her hair.

"Are we ready, Angels? Charlie is waiting for us," Garcia teased.

"Well, he can wait a minute more," Prentiss said, reaching into her bag and withdrawing a bottle.

"Ooh, Em...whatcha got there?" JJ asked, eyeing the bottle of clear liquid.

"While I was buying this fabulous dress yesterday, I also bought this," she proclaimed, holding up the bottle of clear liquid in a very fancy looking crystal bottle. "It is very, very potent, but delicately flavored and palatable—or so the liquor store guy said."

"Looks good," Garcia said. "I'll find glasses."

Em started taking the stopper out of the bottle. "This is a pear infused liquid imported from France that was used for inaugurating throned heads of state." She glanced up at JJ and winked. "I figured if it was good enough for royalty, my friends, then it _might_ pass for us."

Garcia came back from the bathroom with three plastic cups. "Pour some into these timeless decanters, if you please."

"Timeless because they will never compost," JJ remarked with a laugh, taking the glass she was offered.

"A toast," Em said. "To a night befitting our friend. May she have everything she always wanted—love, happiness—"

"And someone great in bed?" Garcia added jokingly.

"Will is fine," JJ answered, rolling her eyes. "Here is a more suitable toast: May we all have everything we truly desire."

"Here, here!" they said in unison, and clinked their plastic cups together before they shot the deliciously scented liquid down.


	8. Chapter 8

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews-you guys rock big time!...As for the story, this is one of those, "Ooh, boy...I could kind of see that coming!" chapters..._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

As the three giggling women exited the elevator, stumbling slightly, Morgan remarked, "Looks like you ladies started the party without us."

His response was a giggle from all three of them.

Rossi chuckled and asked, "What did you three drink?"

"Some lovely drink Prentiss brought back from her shopping trip yesterday," JJ responded, smiling crookedly.

"We had a toast," Em announcing, holding up her hand in toasting fashion.

"And then we had another," Penelope added with the same grin JJ had.

"And one more," JJ remarked, and then looked kind of sheepishly at Rossi and Morgan. "But just little toasts. It was a little bottle."

Garcia held her hand up with her thumb and first finger making the symbol for about an inch. "Teensy weensy."

Morgan leaned closer to Garcia and sniffed. "I smell pears..."

"It's my body wash," Penelope answered, stepping into his proffered arm.

"I smell pears, too," Rossi replied, moving between JJ and Prentiss. "Was it a little crystal bottle?"

"Mmm hmm," JJ said, leaning on one side.

"Yep," Em answered, leaning on the other.

"Imported pear liqueur," Rossi remarked, shaking his head. "That stuff is as strong as homemade moonshine."

"Really?" JJ asked, looking shocked and amazed. Her eyes were huge, drunken saucers in her pretty, drunken face. "It didn't taste that strong..."

"Damn," Morgan murmured, looking down at Garcia, who was leaning heavily against him. "Baby, we need to get you some food...pronto."

Penelope looked up through her lashes at him, still grinning insipidly. "You are so, so, soooo handsome, handsome."

Derek glanced at Dave. "I think our idea of a fancy restaurant is completely gone."

Rossi agreed with a nod. "Come on, Morgan," Rossi said, looping his arms around both Prentiss and JJ. "Let's go."

With that, they dragged their protesting and stumbling teammates to the nearest hotel restaurant.

* * *

><p>Amazingly, the little family-style restaurant that was nearest to the hotel was incredibly busy for a Friday night.<p>

"I've never eaten here before bar close," Morgan grumbled, looking at the packed waiting area.

There was only one bench seat left against the wall. Rossi quickly took that bench and pulled Prentiss and JJ to sit near him.

"Scootch over," Rossi commanded. "Make room for Morgan and Garcia."

Neither woman flanking him had listened to a word he'd said. They were too busy giggling over the panda bears and other stuffed toys in the crane operated machine in the corner near them.

Morgan said, "Sit, baby. I'll stand."

"You sit," she argued.

"Baby Girl," he said patiently. "I am not the one about to land on my ass in the middle of Denny's®. Sit down."

Garcia shook her head, causing her to sway on her feet with her motions. "No, no, no, no! I am not sitting unless you do, angelfish."

"Fine." Morgan growled and took the seat, and then he reached for Penelope's waist and tugged her onto his lap.

Penelope squealed. "Ooh! I'm in your lap again. Twice in one trip," she gushed, and then gave him a curious look. "Why haven't I sat here before, Derek? I like your lap...It's comfy." To prove her point, she shimmied a little.

Derek closed his eyes and groaned with a pained expression, which made Rossi chuckle. Derek shot Rossi a deadly glare, which only made the other man laugh harder.

"What's wrong?" Penelope asked, and then began to pout. "I'm too heavy on your lap, aren't I?" Her bottom lip quivered.

"You're fine," Morgan growled gruffly.

"No," she argued, shaking her head again. "I'm too heavy. Kevin thinks I'm heavy when I sit on his lap."

"Kevin's a moron," Derek answered truthfully, unable to keep his internal Lynch-filter going in this situation.

Penelope stiffened. "He is not. He's a nice boyfriend, and I love him. You need to be nice to him. He isn't mean to you."

"Sorry," he said, not meaning the word at all.

"He isn't!" Garcia growled. "In fact, he was fine with me watching you prance nearly naked and sweaty in front of me, but he didn't want other men to do it."

"What?" Rossi asked, trying extremely hard not to laugh and failing terribly.

"It's true," she said, trying to focus on Rossi. "He knows Derek is harmless, but other guys could give me diseases."

"He's wrong," Prentiss added rather gravely from her spot between Morgan and Rossi. "Well, about the harmless part. The diseases part, he's probably right..."

"That's it," Morgan snapped, lifting her off his lap and placing her on the bench. "Stay there. I am getting sandwiches for all of us to go. Then I may put your drunk butts to bed."

"Party pooper! It's _Vegas_, baby!" Prentiss called, causing both herself, JJ, and Garcia to burst into chuckles again.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, they were all in the lobby again, eating delicious grilled egg, ham, and cheese sandwiches. The girls were scarfing their food down, giggling the whole time, while Morgan and Rossi stared at them disbelievingly.<p>

"What's this called?" Prentiss asked with a full mouth.

Morgan grumbled, "Moons over my hammy."

"Really?" JJ said, and then began to cackle again. Soon, all the girls were laughing too hard to pay any attention to their food at all.

"Eat," Rossi ordered sharply, and all three women stopped giggling and began to munch their sandwiches again.

"Damn, Rossi," Morgan said under his breath to Dave. "I don't think we should let them out like this. They're plastered."

Rossi shook his head. "I expected them to be plastered."

"At eight pm?"

"It is damned early..."

"We have to keep an eye on them," Morgan said.

"Oh, no, you don't, mister," Garcia said, putting the last bite of her sandwich in her mouth. "We go alone. You promised. It's girls' night."

"Penelope—"

"You promised!" she cried, jumping to her feet and knocking her styrofoam container of food onto the floor.

Derek stood and glared at her, the end of his rope approaching quickly. "Well, I have to go back on that promise, don't I, because I am not going to let you out there like this!"

"Let me?" she asked incredulously, trying her best to look dignified despite her inebriated state. "You are not the boss of me, Derek Morgan!"

Derek took a deep breath, but found it wasn't working. "I didn't say that I was."

She poked a finger into his chest. "You can't tell me what to do! You are not even my boyfriend."

"Is Lynch the boss of you?"

Penelope was tired of hearing him bad mouth Kevin, tired of Kevin being a jerk, and tired of loving Derek and never getting to be with him. Deep down, she wanted Derek to be her partner, not the boss of her, but the one who cared for her and only her. She didn't want him ordering her around like this, showing he cared, only to run off with the first supermodel showgirl floozy who walked his way.

"What if he was?" she asked, putting her chin up in the air.

"Then he should be here doing this, not me," he snarled, so sharply it caused her to take a deep breath.

"I didn't ask you to babysit me! I can take care of myself."

"Somebody has to!" He was far, far too angry to back down, and everyone knew it...especially Penelope. "Call him up and tell him to get here. Better yet, get it tattooed on your ass—_Property__ of Kevin Fucking __Lynch_—so that everyone knows he's your man."

"Maybe I will!" she cried back.

"Good!" he snapped.

"Morgan," Rossi said warningly.

"What!" Morgan snarled, glaring at Dave, and then noticed everyone staring at them in the lobby, including Prentiss and JJ. He was arguing with his best friend—while she was hammered—in the middle of a lobby, making a spectacle of the both of them. He ran his hand over his face and said, "Sorry, guys...I need to step away."

As Morgan walked away quickly, Penelope began shaking rather violently in her shoes.

JJ stood and put an arm around her. "Garcie..."

"I'll show him," she murmured, her chin quivering, tears filling her eyes. "I'll show him."

Rossi stood. "Kitten, that's permanent."

Garcia shook off JJ's arm. "I am doing this, and you can't stop me. Nobody can stop me."

"C'mon," Prentiss said, putting her arm around Garcia. "Let's go get another drink, go dance, and if you still feel like tattooing your ass, I'll go with you."

Garcia frowned, but nodded.

JJ turned to Dave and gave him a little smile. "Amazing how a fight can kind of sober you up."

Rossi gave a mirthless chuckle. "Sadly true."

"Can you tell Morgan we'd better go without him for awhile?"

Rossi nodded and headed off to tell Morgan, while JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia called for a cab to take them and Dave to the next location.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews; you guys are superstars!...As for the story-Are you seeing how everything happens that first chapter yet?...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

"Hell, no."

"You don't have a choice."

Morgan was obviously upset, being pissed and being concerned warring for dominance. "Rossi, I can't let you take off with those three women in that state without backup. Wait. I didn't mean _let you_...Damn." He slammed his hand on the counter in frustration, and then hung his head dejectedly.

Dave put his hand on Derek's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "I know what you meant, Derek."

Morgan gave him a weak smile. "Thanks."

"Kid, listen to me," Rossi insisted. "You're going to make things worse if you go with us now feeling the way you do and with Garcia feeling the way she does. I can handle this. Calm down here for awhile, go into that bar and have a beer. I'll call after the next stop, and you can follow at a distance."

Derek took a deep breath, and then sighed heavily. He met Rossi's eyes with very serious intent. "Take care of her."

Rossi smiled faintly and nodded. "You can count on it."

Dave meant that; he would guard all three ladies with his life.

* * *

><p>Penelope, JJ, Emily, and Dave loaded into the minivan cab and began a drive to one of the quieter bars in the city. Dave gave the cabbie directions, hoping seriously that the women didn't realize they were heading away from one of their previous picks—a very happening club that he would've easily lost all three women in.<p>

Keeping Morgan away had been a good call; Dave noticed within five minutes of the drive, Penelope was starting to change her tune on Derek.

"Guys...I never should've talked to him that way," she said sadly, like she was ready to cry any second now. "I got so mad, and I don't even know why. I should apologize—"

"No," Em interrupted, adding rather reasonably for a drunk person. "You and Derek need a break from each other. You're too close."

"We are not!" Penelope cried vehemently. She probably would've jumped to her feet if she hadn't been in a moving car. "I would die without Derek! He means _everything _to me. I love him!"

"Kitten," Rossi said softly before Penelope threw herself out of the moving cab, "I think Prentiss meant you needed a short term break only."

"I would never want to hurt Derek," she said, sitting back with such a frown, her brows were kissing on her forehead. "I love him."

"We know you wouldn't," JJ said, patting Penelope's shoulder. Garcia was directly in front of JJ and next to Em.

"I love him!" she cried out again.

"We _know_ already!" Em snapped, her snarky sense of humor still intact, even with her blood level at one-hundred proof.

Penelope turned to face Prentiss and raised her chin defiantly. "I _still_ love him."

Em rolled her eyes heavenward. "Oh, brother!"

"So...no tattoo?" Dave asked hopefully, changing the subject.

"Oh, no!" Penelope said indignantly, trying to face Rossi, who was sitting in the back of the cab. If she hadn't had her seat belt on, she'd have been on the floor. "I am getting that tattoo. No one is my boss! Not even Derek _sleep-with-a-showgirl-instead-of-the-woman-who-loves-me_ Morgan!"

Dave began to wonder where Penelope had gotten that idea. Reid and Morgan had played a few rounds of craps last night, before retiring earlier than Dave himself had. He'd had a hard time getting to sleep last night, between his thoughts on the gorgeous blonde next to him and Morgan's lumberjack snoring. No, Derek sure as hell hadn't been with a showgirl by any stretch.

He also didn't even want to begin wondering where Kevin Lynch was in this picture...

Shaking him out of that train of thought was the star of his dreams last night when he finally had gotten to sleep.

"Not even Hotch?" JJ asked teasingly, winking over at Dave. Despite the amount of liquor she'd drunk, she was coming out of this drunken high faster than her two cohorts. Dave could tell by her voice and her maintenance of common sense.

Penelope sat still for a second, obviously thinking. "Well...yes, he is, I guess. But no one else!"

Dave leaned closer and murmured in question over to JJ, "How much did she drink?"

"The same as the rest of us," JJ answered, "but Garcie is a notorious lightweight drinker. She didn't have the _college tolerance testing_ that Em and I did."

"Ah," Dave answered in understanding. The light floral scent that JJ wore, along with the scent of pears, wafted up and teased his senses—so much so, his voice was thicker when he answered, "So that explains why you don't appear to be as drunk."

"No...I'm as drunk as they are." She shrugged for a moment, and then looked kind of sad. "To be honest with you, I think I have a harder time letting loose. I'm used to doing what is expected of me. My coaches, my bosses... I'm the quin...quin..." She paused on the word, unable to say it.

"Quintessential," he supplied.

"That's it!" she exclaimed with that crooked grin he adored. "The quintessential golden girl."

Dave frowned in thought at what she'd said, and then drawled, "That's good—following the rules, doing what is expected."

"I think so," she said proudly. "Part of being a law abiding citizen and agent."

"But what about what JJ wants?"

Before she could answer him, the cab had stopped and Penelope called out, "Ooh! Look!"

The bar he had directed them to unfortunately had a tattoo parlor next door to it.

"Let's go there!" Penelope said, dragging JJ.

"No," JJ answered, trying to talk her out of it. "We're getting a few drinks first, right? That was the plan?"

Penelope shook her head. "Hells, no. I want to go there."

"Kitten, you gave your word," Dave reminded, stepping between JJ and Penelope.

That was all the reminder Garcia needed. She followed, albeit rather sulkily, into the Blue Moonlight Lounge. Inside, soft jazz music was playing, the lights were low, and couples were dancing on the intimate dance floor.

All three of the women looked terribly disappointed.

Emily looked around and quipped sarcastically, "Real happening place here, isn't it?"

"A few drinks, and then you ladies can decide what's next," Rossi argued, walking up to the bar. All three women followed him.

He knew he'd dodged a bullet, with them not climbing back in the cab and heading somewhere happening, but he wanted to give Morgan a chance to catch up to them. He'd sent a quick text to him and to Hotch from the cab when the coast was clear.

Despite his bravado, he could use the backup!

Penelope climbed up on a bar stool and amazingly didn't fall off. "I feel kind of Casablanca, 1940s here. Is the bartender named Sam?"

"That was the piano player, Kitten," Rossi corrected.

"Well—" she peered at the bartender's name tag "—Jorge. Play it again and make me a fuzzy navel and a shot of tequila."

"All of us," Prentiss added cheerfully.

"Except me," Dave said quickly. "Bourbon, neat."

"And a shot," JJ said, arching a fine brow at Rossi. "You can't get away without doing a shot."

"Fine. A shot, for me, too," he said to the bartender.

* * *

><p>Two shots and two drinks later, everyone was having a very good time at the Blue Moonlight. The small crowd that was there ended up being very friendly, cheering and laughing with them, and the owner opened champagne for their small party when he had heard that JJ was getting married. It was the kind of place where everyone knew your name; JJ kept expecting to see Norm Peterson walk in.<p>

Penelope was starting to giggle again on a constant basis, as was Prentiss. They continually gave toasts to JJ—sweet toasts, raunchy toasts, and toasts that made no sense at all.

"To JJ," Garcia said, holding up her fuzzy navel and spilling part of it.

"To JJ," the crowd around them repeated, holding up their glasses, too. There was a good sixty people joining them now; the little bar was getting busy.

"May your pants always stay up."

"Cheers!" a man called out, and everyone drank.

"That was awful," Dave said, shaking his head and chuckling while sipping his second bourbon.

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Super Profiler?" Garcia challenged. "You do better."

"Yeah, Dave," Prentiss argued. She was standing next to the bass player in the little jazz quartet that had been playing in the bar. They had a huge fan in Prentiss now, and by the looks they gave her, they were Prentiss's fans, also. She'd declared that she liked the music and repeatedly told the band so, clapping loudly every time they finished a song. "You haven't said a toast yet."

Dave paused for a moment, and then held JJ's gaze with his espresso gaze. "To Jennifer."

"To Jennifer!"

He drew a breath and said softly, "May you finally get what you want."

JJ was lost in the dark onyx eyes holding hers. She couldn't look away, couldn't breathe. Everyone else in the bar melted away; it was just herself and Dave, and what she had so desperately wanted to hear. She could see the silent approval, the heated fire behind his eyes, and she let herself fall deeper, harder, farther into those warm depths.

She didn't know how long she'd spent staring into his eyes, didn't know when the band had started to play again, but she knew exactly when she regained her voice and knew exactly what she was going to say.

"What I want is to dance with you."


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! Are you guys as excited for CM tonight as I am?...This chapter focuses on JJ/Rossi and Morgan/Garcia, but next one is Em/Hotch (I didn't forget about them, I promise!)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

As JJ and Rossi moved to the dance floor, Penelope must've decided that was the best time to have her tattoo done. She borrowed the bartender's pen and began sketching her design.

Prentiss was still gallantly trying to talk her out of it. "PG...do you even know what you want."

"Mmm hmm," she said. "I am going to get the name of the man I love tattooed on my ass."

Prentiss groaned. The idea of anyone spending their life with Kevin Lynch's name forever emblazoned on their keister sounded hideous to her, even in her drunken fog. "Garcia, you really don't want to do that."

"Yes, I do," she proclaimed, waving a cocktail napkin in the air like a flag. "I even drew out the design and know exactly what I want it to say."

"A picture?" Prentiss asked, trying to reach for the napkin.

"No, pictures are so out. I want just words," she explained, holding the napkin away from Em's grabbing hands, "like Lady Gaga's Sanskrit!"

"Let me see," Em said.

"Nope," Garcia said with a grin, tucking the napkin in her clevage and hopping down from the stool. "You'll see when it's done."

Emily groaned and followed Penelope next door to the parlor, where she put down her money and handed the napkin to the Gothic looking woman who was sitting behind the front counter.

"I want a tat on my butt," she said, tapping the napkin. "Just like that."

"Okay," the heavily tattooed young woman said without any emotion whatsoever in her voice. "Follow me."

"Hey...me, too?" Em asked.

"No, just her," the woman growled, leading Garcia through the curtains that separated the waiting room.

It was then Em noticed that the receptionist had left the napkin. She picked it up quickly. "Wait, you forgot—oh, shit!"

Emily couldn't help but sneak a look. The napkin was filled with bold, Penelope scrawl: #IheartDM

"Garcia!" she called, stepping back behind the curtain. "PG, wait!"

Penelope was beginning to lay down on the table. "What?" she asked, sounding slurred.

"This is what you wrote? I love Derek Morgan."

"No," she corrected, lifting her head to look up at Emily. "I wrote pound sign, I heart D. M." She giggled. "Clever for a computer girl to use twitterspeak, ain't it?"

Not waiting for a reply, she let her head fall with a thunk on the table, and then said, "Ouch."

"Garcia, you don't _really_ want that, do you?" Em pleaded. "Come on, let's—"

"No. I know exactly what I wrote, and I want it," she said adamantly, rather lucidly, even though it was muddled by both the drink and the pillow she was laying on. "Wait for me, pretty puss. I'll be done before you know it."

"Hey, you. You need to leave," a much burlier Goth man said, glaring at Prentiss while wielding a rather large needle.

Defeated, Em slowly walked out of the curtains...and directly into Derek Morgan.

"She's doing it, isn't she?" he asked quickly, sounding absolutely haggard.

"Derek!"

"I never...I never should have..." A muscle was working in his jaw, his hands were balled at his side, and pure, unchecked pain was etched in his every movement. He looked like he wanted to punch something. "Son of a bitch!"

"Morgan, wait—"

He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head with disgust. "She showed me. She sure as hell showed me, didn't she?"

Emily's heart ached for him. "Derek—"

"Why didn't you stop her?" he asked, suddenly turning his fury on her.

That seemed patently unfair to her. "Hey, I tried."

"You _tried_?"

Emily's heart sank. She felt miserable enough that she failed in helping her friend, now Morgan was yelling at her.

She kinda wanted to cry.

Morgan ran a hand over his face, and then sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. Go back to the party, Prentiss," he said. "I got her from here."

Despite feeling slightly wounded, she still didn't want Morgan to ruin anything by acting rash. She was a good friend like that. "Don't do anything—"

He gave a sour snort and pulled a face. "Don't worry about that; I ain't gonna touch her." He looked away again, turning his anger inward, blaming himself, a spot Em had seen him put himself a million times before. "I know my place in her life."

The Goth woman exited from the curtain and looked at Emily. "She's done, but she's passed out cold. Sorry about that."

"I'll take her," Morgan said.

"Is it covered?" Em asked the receptionist. Despite how drunk she was, she didn't want Garcia's secret out if she didn't reveal it herself. She had a feeling Pen might regret that tattoo in the morning...

The girl nodded. "We cover all our work before someone leaves."

"Take me to her, please," Derek requested, and then followed the woman through the curtains.

* * *

><p>Being held in the arms of David Rossi was one of the premiere experiences of JJ's life. He swayed with her softly, his steps in perfect rhythm. His five o'clock shadow slightly abraded her temple as he danced cheek to cheek with her, and the rich sandalwood and spice of his cologne blended perfectly with his own masculine scent and tantalized her.<p>

He didn't say a word; he only held her, letting her enjoy the feel of his very male body against hers. She fit into the nooks and crannies of his form so well, it seemed as if Dave had been carved just for her.

"I've always known dancing with you would be a dangerous thing, Rossi," she murmured softly.

"Why is that?" he asked, his warm breath brushing against her cheek like the kiss of an angel's wing.

She closed her eyes again and took a soft breath, resting against him as they rocked gently to the music. "I don't know...I just knew it."

She leaned back to see his face, and at that moment, she had her answer. There was need in Rossi's look, a fiery intensity that matched the feelings she was feeling herself. The answer was chemistry—pure, unadulterated, sexy chemistry that didn't give a damn about things like good intentions, age differences, and work status. What she was feeling for Dave, and what Dave was feeling for her, was a lot more simple...and far more dangerous.

"Jennifer," he said, his voice no more than a whisper above the soft music of the band, "you never answered my question in the cab."

A shiver of desire rippled over her body, so strong it shocked her with its intensity. "I didn't, did I?"

With what appeared to be a struggle, he tore his gaze from hers and glanced around the small dance floor that was suddenly far too crowded. "Should we find somewhere more private?"

She nodded her assent and let him lead her off the dance floor to a quiet, high top table away from most of the crowd.

Standing there, with him only inches from her, her heart beating erratically, her mind swimming, and her body on fire, she pondered what he'd asked her. _What about what JJ wants?_

She knew exactly what she wanted, right now, at that moment—and had wanted for a very long time.

His voice broke the silence. "JJ, what—"

Before she lost her nerve, she placed her hands on his face and raised her mouth to his.

For a heartbreaking moment, he was completely immobile, lacking any response. JJ had feared that she'd done the wrong thing, but then his strong arms folded her closer and he took possession of the kiss.

Swirling, tingling heat raced along her spine and sent waves to pool in her fingers, the tips of her breasts, her groin. Everything was substantially hotter, stronger, better. She felt exhilarated, held in his arms, his lips, both strong and soft, taking possession of hers. Never in her life had she been kissed like this.

Dave slid his hands down her back, lightly, leading, not demanding. He didn't need to demand; she willingly gave him whatever he wished to have. She opened her mouth to the questing endeavors of his tongue, tasting the sharpness of the bourbon he favored, along with the honeyed sweetness of himself. She—

"Wow! I guess the wedding's off, huh?" one of the waitresses cackled out as she approached their table.

JJ broke away from Dave and felt her entire being flush cold and then hot with mortification. These people...Prentiss and Garcia...Dave...

"I...I..." she stammered, unable to put a word together.

What had she done?

Turning, she ran from the bar and jumped into the first cab she could see, ignoring the calls of her name from Rossi.


	11. Chapter 11

_AN: Surprise! Another chapter ASAP...Time to focus on Emily for awhile...My very first time writing Hotch/Prentiss pairing...Eeee! I hope I did all right..._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Emily felt absolutely miserable as she stepped out of the Ink-a-Dink Tattoo parlor and headed back to the Blue Moonlight lounge. She felt terrible that Morgan was angry at her, terrible that she hadn't been able to stop Penelope from getting a permanent reminder of this crazy night, and even more terrible that things were not turning out the way she and PG had planned for this night to go.

Currently, she had a headache, her buzz was wearing off a little, and she felt like crying. Unbeknownst to most everyone, Emily was the kind of drunk that had a hard time holding her emotions in. She cried at the drop of a hat when she was in this state.

She thought wistfully about how the night should have gone. They were supposed to get a nice buzz from the fancy French drink they'd consumed, and then they were going to do the traditional things that girls did for bachelorette parties. During the moments she'd had to herself at the conference, she had purchased presale spots for the all-male revue in town and had scoped out the trendiest night spots.

After seeing beefcakes shake it in their itty bitty banana hammocks, she'd planned that they would go to Club Expose, the hottest nightclub on the Strip, and dance with every Tom, Dick, and Harry that came their direction. She was going to live it up with all the cute guys, and even the homely ones; her father had always told her to dance with ugly guys—"Give 'em a thrill." Right now, her sexy designer dress seemed wasted, and her plans to live it up were being spent doing exactly what she didn't want to do—feeling responsible and wretched.

As she stepped back into the lounge, she saw JJ and Rossi still dancing, so closely a credit card wouldn't have fit between them. There was no mistaking the chemistry radiating off the couple. As she watched them, a sardonic grin crossed her face. Even if it hadn't been what they had intended for her, JJ was obviously still having a good time.

Feeling just a touch better, Emily sauntered over to the bar and sat on one of the high stools. "A rum and coke, please."

Jorge stepped over and started preparing her drink. "What's the matter, _chica_? You look like you swallowed a watermelon whole."

"Great," she mumbled. "A philosophical bartender. Just what this night called for."

Jorge put the drink on the bar, and then held his hands up. "Okay, okay...I'll step away."

Despite her resolve ten seconds earlier not to feel responsible for other people, she felt responsible for hurting Jorge's feelings. "Sorry...just not my night."

"Why is it not your night?" he asked. "You're beautiful. You're young."

"I'm pushing forty," she mumbled, before taking a sip of her drink.

"So?" he asked, arching a brow. "That's young. You got a lot of living to do."

"That's my problem," she snapped. "I am not living. I am a staid, responsible adult with staid, responsible responsibilities that I don't want to be responsible _for_ anymore!" She paused and thought about what she'd said, and then asked, "Did that make sense?"

"_Si_, it did," he answered with a nod. "You know what you need? To do something different, something wild and crazy."

She glanced around at the crowd and shook her head. "Well, that isn't about to happen here."

"Why not?" he asked as she slammed the rest of her drink. "Another?"

"No. Tequila, straight," she said.

The bartender smiled and placed the shooter in front of her. "See? You're starting to make your own party now. That's the way to do it."

Emily rolled her eyes. She couldn't have agreed less with Jorge if he had said the world was flat.

The bartender shrugged. "You try something different: drink a new drink, maybe dance a new dance—"

"What new drink?" she asked, shooting the tequila back and feeling the burn. The burning felt better than the aching in her heart. She could feel herself getting tearful again, and she prayed to God that she wouldn't cry in the damn bar.

Jorge smiled at her, his smile appearing very white in his tanned, Latin face. He kind of resembled the Cheshire cat in the low lighting of the bar. "I have the perfect drink for you..."

He disappeared while Prentiss tried hard to get her bearings. She felt woozy and kind of green, but she didn't care. She glanced at the dance floor and saw that JJ and Rossi had left. She wondered if they had left her there.

That made her want to cry even more.

"Here you go," Jorge said, slapping a frothy pink drink with smoke rising out of it on the bar in front of her. "This is my specialty, beautiful. Try this. On me."

Emily eyed the drink suspiciously. The responsible part of her didn't think drinking that drink was a good idea, but she ignored that side—she was pissed at her responsible side, after all—picked up the beverage, and drank it anyway.

It was far more fiery and potent than the tequila had been. She sputtered and coughed. "What was in that?"

"The heat is from the habeneros," he said with a smile. "It will subside; just wait."

Sure enough, the fire inside mellowed to a warm, pleasant feeling that seemed to coat her insides and lull her like a cup of hot chocolate. Jorge was a far more talented bartender than she had given him credit for.

"That...that was good," she said, or at least thought she said. Her lips felt kind of numb. She brought her fingers up to her mouth and touched them to be sure they were still on her face.

"See? Drink something new, sing a little, dance a little," Jorge cajoled, wiggling his eyebrows in front of her, "maybe with a handsome Latin stud?"

Em wasn't that drunk. Her tastes did not go toward long haired, rough looking bartenders with jeans so tight, they showed his soul. No, she liked the classic tall, dark, and handsome man, with chiseled good looks that could freeze an Unsub with one glance and melt hearts with his just the slightest smile. A strong man who showed compassion toward his team and his son, who fought back from the edge of disaster and won.

No...Jorge simply wasn't that particular man.

Shaking her head, she thought back to what else Jorge had said. "Sing and dance, huh?"

"You sing?"

Charlie, the bassist from the band, was standing next to her again. It was hard to miss him. He was six-ten at the least.

She smiled at him and said, "In the shower."

"Have you ever wanted to sing professionally?" he asked her.

Em snorted. She had a passable voice, but no one would pay to hear her sing. Rather than say that, she answered, "No."

"Oh, come on," Charlie said. "Sing in the band tonight, Em. We'd love to have you."

She shook her head; it felt like liquid was sloshing around inside with every movement she made. "No, no way."

She heard a tsking sound and turned to see Jorge shaking his head.

"I'm disappointed in you, _chica_," he said. "You wanted to take risks, and you turned it down. You are hopelessly responsible."

Her jaw fell open. "I am not!"

Jorge nodded. "_Si_. _Si_, you are."

"I am not!"

"You are," he said adamantly, and then looked at the bassist. "Charlie, is she not?"

Before Charlie could answer, Em drank the rest of the fiery pink drink and said, "Lead me to the stage, big guy."

* * *

><p>Hotch had driven so quickly, he had felt like he was flying. Unfortunately, Nevada State Patrol had also assumed he was flying. He had a rather massive fine he was going to have to pay before he could leave the state.<p>

Before, he'd been driving rather peacefully, but then he'd received Rossi's text, stating, _Heading to_ _Blue Moonlight. Need backup ASAP_.

The vague text had thrown Hotch into a million trains of thought. He'd sent a text back, but had not received an answer from Dave or Morgan, which made him start to worry. Dave never overestimated anything; Hotch had assumed that perhaps the worst was happening and had headed toward Vegas post haste.

Stepping into the Blue Moonlight Lounge, he felt like a fish out of water. He had intended on heading to the hotel to change clothes for going out, but instead, he was still in his upper management duds: a suit and tie. The conference for him had been meeting with other leads; he'd known he had to dress the part.

He glanced around, trying to find someone—JJ, Rossi...anyone—and winced as a singer warbled on the stage. Her tune would've been passable, but she was out of sync with the music and her words sounded slurred. The singer was singing Adele...and doing a terrible job at it. She was coming to a crescendo now.

"We could've had it alllllllllllll! Rolling in the sheeeeeeets..."

Gah, the woman couldn't even get the words right! Hotch shook his head and chuckled slightly, like the audience was doing. Perhaps it was a comedy show.

As he checked in and turned to see the stage, he stopped immediately in his tracks.

"Oh, God..."

Emily Prentiss was on the stage, the lead singer of a jazz quintet, shaking her bottom and her bosom in an immensely sexy black dress that showed her considerable assets.

"But you played it...with the feeling," she sang, and then smiled crookedly at a man in the front row, puckering, making kisses at her. She winked down at him. "You want a _feeling_, mister? I just bet you do!"

The crowd whistled at her, and Hotch started pushing his way forward, but they wouldn't let him through.

"Hey, buddy," a man with a heavy Spanish accent said. "You want a drink or something?"

"What I want is to get closer to that stage," Hotch growled seriously.

The man smiled a wide smile. "She's something else, isn't she?"

Hotch watched Em undulate, her short dress riding up, and sing, "Count your...blah blah, and see what you've been told!"

"Take it off, sweetie!" someone in the crowd yelled, and Hotch felt his blood come to a screaming halt.

He didn't like this. This was not the Emily Prentiss he knew, and he knew she wouldn't appreciate this if she was aware of what was happening. Someone should've watched out for her; where the hell were Morgan and Dave?

"And she's going home with me tonight," the Latino man added with a smirk.

"The hell she is," Hotch growled, and then reached for his badge. "FBI. Let me through."

"Hotch, thank God," Rossi said, appearing from no where. "She's been singing for half an hour—the same damn song."

"Why didn't you stop her?" he snapped, still pushing his way through the thick headed, drunken crowd.

Rossi narrowed his eyes. "Some of us left our credentials in the hotel safe depository!"

Reaching the stage area, Hotch stepped up and grabbed the microphone from Emily. "Show's over."

"Hey!" she cried out, and then focused. "Hotch?"

"Come on, Emily," he said. "Time to go home."

"No," she argued. "I want"—she burped—"to sing."

"Emily, this isn't like you," he said.

"Yes, it is!" she said, planting her feet. "This is the new me...a singer!"

Shaking his head, he said, "You'll thank me in the morning for this."

Not wasting a second, he scooped her up in his arms and started off the stage with her, hearing the boos from the crowd.

Rossi had already gotten them a cab—he'd given Dave his rental's keys. Hotch deposited her on the seat and barked directions to the driver.

"Who do you"—she hiccuped—"think you are, mister, taking me off that stage?"

"A friend that was stopping you from doing something I know you'll regret," he answered flatly.

"How do you know that?" she asked, her chin up defensively. "This is me, the way I want to be."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is!" she snapped. "This is the way I want to be! People noticed me this way—"

"Not in a good way, Emily."

"Yes they did!" she argued.

"No, they didn't."

"They noticed!" she cried, and then her chin quivered and she said softly, "_You_ noticed..."

That took Hotch back for a moment. He'd always liked Emily, always thought she was both lovely and attractive. However, as her boss, he'd pushed aside feelings to take anything further and had never felt that she had wished to pursue anything with him. Now he was thinking that perhaps he'd been incorrect in his thinking...

"Emily," he said softly, treading lightly with his heart and hers. "I noticed you before."

She laughed and looked away. "No, you didn't."

"Emily, I did," he replied. "From what I noticed, this isn't the way you are."

"What if I want it to be?" she asked, whirling in her seat to face him. "What if I don't want to be the old pair of slippers you discard?"

"Slippers?" he asked incredulously. Lord, he had never thought of her in that fashion! He wanted to say more, but she continued spewing her words.

"What if I want to be the one who makes you laugh, the one who gets smiles and acts silly and calls you a _Hotch Rocket_?"

"Emily—"

She held his gaze, the hurt in her eyes unquestionable. "What if I am the one who wants to finally get your attention?"

Hotch had a hard time understanding that Prentiss, with her strong self-confidence and intelligence, was having a moment like this. There was no questioning her appeal, but he'd hadn't realized she'd wanted his attention. Not in that way. It was both humbling and inspiring.

And gave him bright hope for what could be.

"You do that already," he answered. "Just being who you are."

"Really," she snorted, disbelieving. "Then who am I, Hotch? What attributes do you see?"

Reaching up, he held her chin in his hand and studied her with a keen eye. "What do I see?"

"Yeah."

"I see courage, strength, loyalty. I see compassion, beauty, intelligence. I see a sharp wit, humor, fire, and dignity..."

He could feel that she was barely breathing, and tears were pooling in her dark eyes. It touched his heart and made him want to comfort her and hold her.

"I see endless possibilities, never ending dreams, and the power to catch them," he said honestly, and then cupped her cheek in his hand. "I see so much more than you must see, Emily, because I don't see the need for you to ever change...or the need to denigrate such a wonderful woman by doing the things you were doing on that stage."

Actual tears began to fall down Em's cheeks, but she was smiling. "Oh, Hotch!"

Hotch grinned, too—it was contagious, Em's grin—and wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb. "Yes, Emily?"

"Oh, Hotch...that's...so wonderful," she gushed, still smiling. "I think...I think..."

And then her expression shifted.

"I think I am going to be sick!"

The cabbie pulled over just in time.


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I know I am being a Speedy Gonzales here, but I need to get posted so I can post my New Year's Resolution story...and I have one with Morgan in a towel, too! Eeeek! I am story crazy, please forgive me...Ps. This is my favorite chapter of this story-I dare you not to smile reading it. I __double dog__ dare you! (Just kidding! *hugs*)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

_Present time..._

All three women sat on the end of one of the queen beds in their hotel room and sighed in unison. This caused them to look at each other and smile, despite their aching heads, rotted guts, and sore hearts.

They had dressed in absolute silence, each bemoaning their fate, and were now waiting to head to the lobby to call for a cab to the airport.

Garcia was the first one to start chuckling, followed by JJ, and then all three ladies of the BAU were laughing. Soon, tears were rolling down their faces, and they were leaning on each other for support.

Em held her gut and said, "We sure know how to mess things up, don't we?"

"I'll say," JJ answered, smiling brightly while wiping mirthful tears from her eyes.

"Not as big as me." Garcia pointed a finger at herself. "When it comes to screwing up, I take the cake."

JJ shook her head. "No, I think we all messed up pretty badly."

"I threw up in front of Hotch and some cab driver," Em remarked. "That's awful."

"I kissed a man I'm not engaged to," JJ added sympathetically.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Please. I have Morgan's initials tattooed on my ass."

Rather than garnering more sympathy, the other two women began to laugh again.

"It's true! I can show you," she said with a pout, but her eyes were twinkling.

Em quickly covered her eyes. "We've seen it!"

"I am never drinking like that again," Penelope said quickly.

"Me, too," JJ added.

"Me, three," Emily chimed in, and they all laughed shortly and sighed.

All three of them were quiet for a while after that, contemplating what had happened to each of them. There was a whole lot to contemplate, after all. Then JJ was the first to speak.

"You know, all in all, I had a very interesting night," she said cautiously, "but the saddest thing for me is that I don't know what happened to all of you."

"What happened to you?" Em questioned. "Last I saw you was when you were dancing with Rossi. You two were looking mighty cozy at that time."

JJ blushed, but still asked, "When was that?"

"Right after Morgan carried Garcia from the tattoo parlor—"

"What?" Penelope screeched, jumping to her feet, the color draining from her already pale face.

JJ frowned at her. "You didn't know that? I thought you did, since he was tucking you in and kissing you goodnight when I returned to the hotel."

"Oh, God," Penelope moaned, covering her face with her hands, and then peeking between her fingers. "Did he see my tattoo?"

"Not at the parlor," Em said quickly. "They covered it."

Garcia jumped up and rummaged around in her bed. A second later, she heaved a sigh of relief as she held up gauze that must've fallen off in her sleep. "Thank goodness."

"Seriously, Garcia," Emily remarked reassuringly. "Out of all of us, the one who has the least to worry about is you."

Pen glared at her like she had two heads. "Sure. I have a boyfriend who is going to flip over my butt, and—"

"Penelope, have you considered what getting that tattoo really means?" JJ asked, interrupting her.

Penelope's eyes widened innocently, but her expression said she'd _definitely_ thought about it...and she was scared to death.

JJ stood and walked over to Penelope. "Garcie, the entire time in the cab, you wanted to make sure we all knew you loved Morgan. He was your everything, and you couldn't live without him."

Swallowing hard, Penelope nodded.

"And you told us you were going to get the name of the man you loved on your derriere," Em added.

"The sun rises and sets for you with Morgan, and for him with you." JJ reached for her shoulders. "Do you really care what Kevin Lynch thinks?"

Garcia shook her head. "Morgan loves me, but it's—"

"No buts about it," Em interrupted, and then chuckled a little before adding, "literally and figuratively in this case!"

"Prentiss!" Pen whined in exasperation.

"I'm kidding," Em said with a placating smile. "Seriously, PG, chemistry flows both ways. He's as crazy about you as you are about him."

"I—"

A knock on their door caused all three women to startle. Em walked over and looked through the peephole, and then smiled at Garcia. "It's for you," she said, before opening the door.

"D-Derek," Penelope stammered, that ghostly pale look taking over her face again.

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said, smiling her way, and then said, "JJ, Prentiss."

"Morning, Morgan," JJ said with a chipper grin.

"I thought I'd take you ladies to the airport," he drawled lazily as he leaned against the door frame, "after I talk to Penelope, of course."

"We were just leaving," Em said, reaching for JJ's arm and propelling her out the door.

Penelope met Derek's eyes, her heart jumping in her chest so quickly, she could barely breathe. She was never nervous around Derek, but now...she couldn't focus, she couldn't think.

"Penelope—"

"I need to go get my makeup bag," she muttered, turning toward the bathroom, trying to make a quick escape.

Unfortunately for her, Morgan was so much faster.

"Baby Girl," he said, snagging her cold, clammy hand, halting any progress away from him. "We need to talk."

"Not now, Derek," she begged, knowing her heart couldn't take any teasing or ribbing from him—or any chastising. Lord, that would be the worst, if he chastised her for being foolish. She couldn't even look him in the eye; she kept her line of sight straight ahead.

He grinned at her, a very silly, very sweet grin. "Honey, can I at least show you something I got last night?"

Her curiosity outweighed her survival instincts. She shot him a sideways glance. "What's that?"

"Promise you'll stand right there and not move a step?" he asked in a cajoling tone, his low voice causing shivers of anticipation to run down her spine.

"I won't," she answered.

He removed his hand from hers...and then put them on his belt buckle.

She gasped, her eyes widening as she turned to face him.

Still grinning wickedly, he undid the button and unzipped his fly.

"Oh...oh, no..." she said, but she didn't mean it. In fact, she was starting to grin, too, as understanding hit her at what he was going to show her.

A second later, his loose fitting pants hit the ground with a jingle of coins and keys in his pocket, and he tugged the side of his black boxer briefs down. He turned to the side. "Take a look..."

His hip displayed a very familiar, very similar tattoo to the one Penelope herself had gotten the night before: #IheartPG

"Oh, Derek!" she gushed, tears rushing to her eyes as she stepped into his open arms.

"I mean those words, Baby Girl," he said gruffly, holding her tight. "Did you mean yours, too?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, squeezing him back.

He cupped her face in his hand, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. "You're serious now, right?"

"Like a bomb threat, lover."

"Good," he whispered softly. "Because I don't give my heart to anyone more than once."

Penelope looped her arms around his neck and looked at him through her lashes. "Once is all I need, handsome."

Penelope's breath caught in her throat in anticipation as Derek lowered his head to kiss her.

Sweet, soft, tender and perfect were words that Penelope could place for that moment. It was everything she'd ever dreamed of—the taste of minty freshness of his mouth, the hardness of his chest against hers, the woodsy, spicy smell of his cologne—all wrapped up with electric tingles of heat that sent her senses spiraling. She noticed he was smiling like she was. He probably couldn't help it, either; there was so much to be joyful for.

A long while later, the kiss broke apart. He cupped her face in his hands, as he watched her with wonder, like he was afraid she'd disappear.

"I love you, Penelope Garcia," he said, his dark eyes shining with emotion. "And that is more permanent than any ink."

"I love you, too, Derek Morgan," she answered, closing her eyes a moment before his lips melded with hers yet again.


	13. Chapter 13

_AN: Surprise! Second chapter of the day! Whoo hoo! Haven't done that in ages, have I?...Time to settle things between another one of our pairs..._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

JJ and Em were sitting in the lobby of the hotel where they'd eaten their moons over my hammy sandwiches last night. They'd been sitting there for a good half hour at least now.

"I wonder what's keeping them?" Em asked, glancing at her watch. It was nearly a quarter to nine; they needed to be at the airstrip by nine.

She groaned internally. Of course... Back to being good ol' uninteresting reliable Emily Prentiss.

"Do you really need to ask?" JJ asked, arching a brow with a bemused expression on her face.

Earlier, JJ had explained that when she'd returned to the room the night before, Morgan had been there. Penelope had been stripped down to her bra and panties; he was just tucking the blanket up under her chin when JJ walked in.

"Morgan…what happened?" JJ'd asked in a fog.

Derek had leaned down and kissed Penelope's lips, sweetly, tenderly, like Prince Charming trying to wake Sleeping Beauty. When he'd stood back up, he'd smiled at JJ, a man so obviously in love, it had taken her breath away.

"I don't think Will has ever looked at me like that," she'd said.

Emily had been about to offer some sympathy, but she realized it was unnecessary. JJ hadn't sounded at all upset about that revelation. It had been said in a matter-of-fact tone, lacking speculation of any kind. The more Em thought, the more she realized JJ should've sounded upset, considering she was marrying the man in less than a week.

However, before Emily could question JJ, Morgan and Garcia stepped out of the elevator, cuddled closely together, Derek's arm slung over Penelope's shoulders in a possessive manner.

In other words, they arrived like always did.

"Aww, you two made up," JJ said, a teasing, knowing smile on her face.

"Or made out," Emily remarked, seeing the bee stung lips and whisker burn on Garcia.

"Ready to go?" Morgan asked wisely, not commenting on his colleagues' remarks.

Morgan and Garcia took the bench back seat of the minivan cab, while Prentiss and JJ were in the front captain's chairs. Within moments, the two in the back seat were indisposed, exchanging "secret" kisses when they thought no one was looking. Of course, they weren't paying attention too much, either; someone would have to be blind not to notice.

All in all, it was okay with Emily. She wasn't big on PDAs, but these two had it coming. She figured she'd give them a week, and if they were still ridiculously mushy, she'd tease the crap out of them.

Besides, this gave her an opportunity to finish up asking JJ questions about her night and about the odd response she'd given earlier. Em had a feeling that wedding wasn't going to happen, and JJ didn't seem anywhere near as broken up as she should be.

"Jayje?"

JJ glanced over at her. "What?"

"Are you marrying Will next Saturday?"

JJ took a deep breath and said shortly, but softly, "No."

"Whoa," Emily said, giving her friend a sidelong glance. "That was succinct."

JJ laughed, but didn't elaborate at all. Instead, she looked lost in thought, in memories that were making her blush and smile.

"What happened between you and Rossi?" Emily put two and two together and tried to come up with a reasonable four. The way the two of them had crushed together dancing…that led her to believe the senior profiler had something to do with her change of heart.

JJ only blinked for a second, but it was enough to let Emily know that her guess was correct.

"I knew it!" she crowed quietly, so as not to disturb the resident lovebirds.

JJ shook her head, a hot pink flush growing in her cheeks. "It isn't what you think."

"What do you…" And then it hit her. "JJ, I didn't mean to assume—"

JJ patted Emily's arm soothingly. "No, I know you didn't mean that." She paused and took a deep breath. "It had everything to do with Dave, but more about what he said than what he did."

This interested Emily more than JJ would ever know. For years, she'd been trying to tell JJ to step away from Will and see him as the passive-aggressive control freak she saw him as, but JJ had seemed too dedicated, too devoted to family to even try to think in a different manner.

"Let's just say he taught me that I deserved to get what I want once in a while," she replied somewhat cryptically.

"Okay," Emily said, and then sat back, ready to let things go. A minute later, she asked, "_Nothing_ else happened?"

JJ gave her a chastising look in return. "Emily…"

Emily pulled a face. "Okay, okay."

"How about you and Hotch?" JJ asked, turning the tables.

Emily blanched. She didn't remember much of the evening in the bar, except drinking a really spicy drink, throwing up, and singing Adele.

God, what had she been thinking? She couldn't carry a tune to save her soul when she was drunk, and yet, she'd jumped on stage like an idiot. She was never, ever drinking that much again.

"Hotch hauled me off the stage and gave me the fifth degree," she grumbled.

JJ lost her teasing smile, only to have it replaced with compassion. "I'm sorry, Em."

"Yeah, well…I deserved it," she said, shrugging. "I was acting like an idiot. I never even thanked him, or apologized for my behavior."

JJ glanced out the side window of the van as they pulled into the airport. "Looks like you're going to have a chance right now."

Emily's heart jumped into her throat as she saw Hotch standing there, impeccably dressed in his suit, his dark hair and dark sunglasses glinting in the sun.

_Be brave,_ she told herself. Taking a deep breath, she stood and exited the minivan first, but then she let JJ pass her, and then Morgan and Garcia, even though Morgan had paid the driver. She probably would've let a snail pass her if she could.

Derek and Penelope boarded the plane, and JJ paused and asked a question, before stepping aside toward the flight lounge.

Wishing she was wearing something more dignified than a pair of jeans and a fuzzy yellow sweater that kept shifting in the high velocity winds on the airstrip, she made her way over to Hotch.

"Hi—" Her hair whipped across her face and into her mouth. She pushed it out of the way. "Hi, Hotch, I—" Again, she was bombarded by her own raven tresses. She growled in frustration and pushed the hair away.

"Let's talk inside the jet," he replied, lightly placing a hand on her back to guide her to the entryway.

"Thanks," she muttered, feeling dread rising.

As they entered the plane, the front conference area was empty. Morgan and Garcia were in their spot in the back. Hotch gestured to the seat. "Ladies first."

Em took her seat, while Hotch unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat across from her. He removed his sunglasses and put them away in their protective case before speaking.

"I trust you slept well?" he asked, letting his gaze wash over her. "You look good."

"Thank you," she answered, knowing small talk was prolonging the inevitable. Never the kind to pussyfoot around, she burst at the seams. "Hotch, I need to apologize for my actions last night. I feel they were regrettable."

"I don't."

She paused and frowned at him. "Excuse me?"

"Your actions," he said. "I don't feel they were regrettable."

"Getting so drunk you needed to haul me off a stage wasn't regrettable?" she asked, flabbergasted.

He smiled at her. "That part was surprising, but not so much regrettable."

"Then why…" She paused in confusion, and then she looked down at her folded hands on the table instead. She couldn't think when she was confronted with his smile. As she stared at her clammy fingers, she started remembering the words he'd said last night. Especially this part...

_I see so much more than you must see…_

Oh, my...He hadn't scolded her like an errant child at all. He'd _complimented_ her and had seemed genuinely interested.

Interested in her: regular, wonderful, good ol' reliable Emily Prentiss.

She was flabbergasted. Did he see something in her she hadn't seen herself? Something truly special, like she saw in him?

Only one way to find out.

"Hotch?" she asked, looking up at him. "Why do you think it wasn't regrettable?"

"Having the opportunity to talk to you, and tell you how wonderful you really are, would never be regrettable," he answered. Reaching across the table, he held both of her hands in his. "In fact, I would like to have more opportunities to talk and to explore our relationship."

She swallowed and said, "You would?"

"I would." He paused and arched a brow at her. "Six pm next Saturday work for you?"

"An official date," she said, a bit awestruck at what was happening.

Hotch grinned at her. "I haven't done this in a while, but I believe that's what I would call it."

"I'll explain," she said cheekily. "A date usually means you pick me up and you pay." She paused, her dark eyes twinkling. "Is that what you are going to do?"

He grinned. "I'd planned on it."

"Can we sing karaoke?" she teased, unable to hide her smile.

He winked back at her. "Don't press your luck."


	14. Chapter 14

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews!...Here we go, chapter 14 before the epilogue tomorrow (My favorite chapter!)...And now, with no further adieu, last but not least, JJ and Rossi..._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

There were few places that offered a man absolute privacy in a town as crowded as Las Vegas, but a federally owned airstrip fifteen miles or so from downtown was one of them. This was a blessing; he really needed privacy.

He reached into his inner breast pocket of his sport coat and pulled out a small case. Flicking the latch, he picked up one of the three hand-rolled, imported cigars inside and brought it up to his nose for an inhale. The smell was sweet; it was made with the finest tobacco—_Italian_ tobacco. After quitting years ago, Dave Rossi only smoked a few times a year, and when he did, he did it right.

Closing the case with one hand, he placed the stogie between his lips with the other. As he put the case away, he reached for his lighter—which was supposed to be in the same pocket—and came up empty handed.

Swearing softly and swiftly under his breath, he reached into his lower coat pockets, and then his trousers, searching in vain for the missing torch.

"You know, smoking isn't good for you," a sweet and soft _alto voce_ chastised him gently. A very familiar voice, one that had haunted his dreams last night and would haunt him forever, now that he knew how sweet its owner tasted. No, that wasn't something he was likely to forget anytime soon…

And she'd run away from him.

Protecting his heart and his head, he adopted a sarcastic tone when he answered, "You wouldn't happen to have a light, would you?"

JJ was shielding her eyes from the bright Vegas sun, and her golden hair was blowing behind her as she approached him, like Botticelli's _Birth of Venus_. She looked every ounce the golden girl, exquisite, beautiful…unobtainable.

And Dave? He was lurking in the shadows of a huge building, the lord of the underworld, an island unto himself.

"No," she said, stepping into the dim light. "When did you start smoking?"

_I didn't. Did my kiss taste like smoke?_ he wanted to ask, but self-preservation kept his tone snarky.

"Wrong question, sweetheart," he drawled without charm. "When I originally started, it was a long time ago…probably well before you were even born."

"Don't," she snapped.

He gave her a perplexed look. "Don't what?"

"Don't emphasize our age difference," she said, shaking her head slightly. "You do that when you want to dismiss me."

"You're kind of green to be profiling the master, Jennifer," he retorted, and then was unable to meet the hurt look in her eyes.

Shit, he needed that smoke! He started searching his pockets again.

"Please don't separate us," she said softly, without malice. "I think we mean too much to each other over the past few months to do that. Just answer my question."

She was absolutely right. He was being an ass, and he needed to stop. Their friendship, their working environment, their mentor/student relationship did not have to end because of one incredible—and incredibly foolish—kiss.

"It's tradition," he said, finally locating his lighter in his back pants pocket. "In my family, every time there is something major to celebrate—a wedding, a birth of a baby, even a death—the men gather and have a cigar." As he struck the lighter, he said, "I brought one for Morgan and Hotch, too, but since we were too busy…"

Before he could light it, she said, "Wait. You don't need to do that."

He was shaking slightly, he wanted that cigar badly. He needed something—_anything_—that would take his attention off the blonde in front of him. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"You don't," she said quickly, stepping closer. "There's nothing to celebrate."

That gave him pause. However, he didn't gain hope; he was far too much a realist to become a starry eyed dreamer.

"I'm not getting married."

His brows shot up, and the cigar dropped from his mouth and broke open when it made contact with his shoe, spilling the nearly twenty dollars worth of imported tobacco all over the ground. He didn't even give a damn about that, however. He needed clarification.

His heart was racing when he asked the most important, cut-to-the-chase question. "Why?"

"Because of you," she said, making his heart seize in the most pleasant manner in his chest, until she added, "Not just because you kissed me"—she blushed prettily, which made him smile despite himself "—although that was a spectacular kiss."

"If memory serves, Agent Jareau, _you_ kissed _me_," he argued logically, watching her blush deepen, and then added, "And yes, it was spectacular."

"Spectacular kiss aside…you made me think, Dave." She smiled and continued, "You asked me about me, about what I wanted."

Her smile left her face and was replaced with a thoughtful urgency. "In thirty-five years, I can't remember a time I really thought about what I wanted. I thought about my sister and what I could've done to keep her alive, I thought about Will and how being in a relationship with him, especially after his father died, would help him. I thought about when I had to leave the BAU, exiting instead of fighting, because it would be easier on everyone in the long run."

She paused, closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked at him, holding his eyes with her crystalline blue ones. "I thought about you...how I'd wanted so badly to touch you and I didn't because of what others would think, afraid to let go of my good girl image because I would disappoint my parents."

"Why did you run from me, Jennifer?" he asked, needing to know the answer.

"Fear," she said simply. "I found my entire life changing drastically in two days' time…that's how much you made me think."

"How does it feel, to think about JJ?" he asked softly.

She smiled, a beaming, gorgeous smile Dave saw far too rarely from her. "It feels incredible."

He smiled and cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm glad for you, _cara_," he said, the endearment slipping from his lips far too easily.

Before he could remove his hand, she placed her hand on top of his to halt him. "And _then_ I thought about that kiss…"

Even in the darkness cast from the building, he could see the warmth flashing in her eyes, the spark of heat that was only matched by his own.

"And what did you think about that?" he asked huskily, unable to glance away for even a heartbeat.

Entwining her arms around his neck, she whispered, "I thought about how I wanted to do it again…and again…and again…"

He folded her into his embrace. "Oh, baby…now you're talkin'," he murmured, and then lowered his mouth to hers, feeling the sweet, soft warmth of her lips just before the storm of feeling hit.

His kiss was long and deep...demanding. This time, he didn't bother to ask for permission; he took everything she had and used it as food for his soul. With her kiss, he could feel the gaping holes in his past begin to knit together, in a fabric of passion and love that he could build tomorrow with.

By the time he lifted his mouth, he was both speechless and shaken. JJ looked to be in a similar state, with kiss bruised lips and closed eyes, a dreamy expression on her face. He'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

"We'd better get back," he said gruffly.

When she opened her eyes, she smiled and said, "That was worth being a bad girl."

He smiled, and because she was leaning against him, he helped her to her feet. He cautioned teasingly, "Careful there...not _too_ bad…"

"That depends on what _I _want, right?" she said, tossing a wink over her shoulder, before heading toward the plane with a spring in her step and a swing to her hips.

Dave watched her walk and continued to grin. "Lord help me…"


	15. Chapter 15

_AN: We have finally come to the end of this story. I can't thank you enough for reading, alerting, favortiting and reviewing this story. It was very different for me to write. I had such fun writing each individual couple; I hope you feel that I treated them with as much love and respect as I have for my usual Morgan and Garcia...So, here we go: an epilogue in three parts, given with love. Until we meet again in the next story, Love and Peace to you! KricketWilliams_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

_Thursday night...One year later_

Sometimes, things work out for the best without having to try very hard to make them work out.

Or perhaps it was just a coincidence that the team headed back to Las Vegas almost exactly a year later for that same conference. Perhaps it was fate that had them celebrating marriage yet again at that same time. Perhaps it was destiny that they were all in the same hotel as last year.

Then again, _coincidence_ and _fate _and_ destiny_ most likely had blonde hair, pink-striped glasses, and a turquoise sweater. AND truth be told, she'd started planning their reservations for a return trip before they'd even left for Vegas last year.

She'd had a feeling it was going to be a trip they'd never forget.

"Garcia, we could've waited to celebrate," Emily said as they walked into the foyer of the hotel, the large rock on her perfectly manicured left hand catching the lights from the chandelier on the domed ceiling. Em's nails were to die for; since she'd starting having less stress, she'd stopped biting her fingernails.

"Why would we ever want to do that?" Garcia asked, giving her a sidelong glance.

Em shot her a look. "You know why."

"Pish posh." Garcia waved a hand in dismissal, like the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. "I'll be okay."

Emily had a sulky expression on her face. "Well, I still feel kind of guilty. You can't drink and celebrate and party with us."

"Awww, boo," she said, smiling at Emily. "You're so sweet."

"No need to worry," Derek said as he stepped behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her and placing his hands on her tummy. "We'll make our own kind of party."

Prentiss wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Okaaaay…that was enough to make me not hungry…"

"Are you not feeling well? We can order room service," Hotch said, a slight raise of his brow and nonchalant tone of voice that probably seemed bland to the average person. However, Emily thought it did nothing to hide the interest that sparked in his eyes.

"Actually, I think it might be a good idea if we all crash early tonight," JJ said amenably.

"Do they have Italian on the room service menu?" Dave asked teasingly, which earned him a teasing elbow to his side from his fiancée. He caught her left hand and brought it to his lips, giving it a soft kiss just below the glittering diamond on her finger, that spoke volumes to his true intent.

A reception clerk called out, "Next!"

"It's our turn, baby," Derek said to his wife, and then looked up at everyone else. "Catch you all tomorrow."

"Next please?" another receptionist called.

Hotch nodded and looped a possessive arm around Emily. "Tomorrow then, everyone."

* * *

><p>Penelope grinned the whole ride in the elevator that led up to their room. The grin grew as she giggled in the hallway, and once they entered the room, she was still smiling from ear to ear. She appeared to be bubbling over with delight, like she couldn't contain her joy.<p>

Derek placed the bags down and smiled while he shook his head slowly, watching as she slid her stilettos off and ran to the window. While she was there, she threw open the curtains, and then pirouetted in the neon lights streaming in.

"We're here!" she cried, obvious excitement oozing out of every pore.

"Baby Girl, what is going on with you?" he asked, finding her mood contagious.

"I love this town. It makes me feel alive!" she gushed. "I love the lights, and the weather, and the extravagant hotels. I love _everything_ here!"

"The showgirls?" he teased.

She glanced haughtily over her shoulder at him. "Well, maybe not them..."

As she looked back out the window, Derek chuckled and slipped his shoes off. He padded over to where she was standing and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her body flush with his. "You know what I love about this town?"

She turned in his arms, a curious expression on her beautiful face. "What?"

"I love this," he said, giving her lips a sweet, soft kiss that hinted at so much more. At the same time, he reached for the sweater slung casually over her shoulders and pushed it to the ground.

"I love that, too," she murmured, turning back around so she could lean against him again.

A second later, he had the tie of her skirt undone. As it fell to the ground, he tugged her loose shirt over her head. He held her still, his hands on her waist, as he placed another kiss on the side of her neck.

"I love how you look, your skin bathed in those colorful lights." His words were no more than a breathy growl. He dropped to his knees behind her, letting his hands slide to her hips, moving the waistband of her panties down as he did so.

"And I love this, too," he whispered, kissing the tattoo that had started it all for them, before running his tongue over it playfully.

"Derek," she answered breathlessly as he encouraged her to turn and face him.

"And I love this," he said, moving to her rounded belly, where their child grew safe and sound. He placed a reverent kiss there. "More than words can ever say, Baby Girl."

When he moved his gaze to her face, he saw that she had tears in her eyes.

Reaching down, she touched the side of his face. "Me, too...it's more than I'd ever hoped for."

Derek moved to his feet in a graceful, fluid motion. "But what I love most, sweetness, is this..."

She watched him as he leaned forward and placed a kiss over her heart.

"And I still can't believe it's all mine."

"Oh, Derek," she said, a few tears gathering on her lashes.

He cupped her face in his hands. "I don't need a fancy city or a hotel to make me feel alive. I got everything I need right here, always."

When his lips captured hers, it was like that first kiss again and like every kiss after between them. Electric passion, flashes of heat, like a summer storm that whipped out of control and was awe inspiring in its intensity.

As he kissed her, he lifted her in his arms and carried her away, body and soul...

* * *

><p>"Kung Pao Chicken or Beef Lo Mein?" Emily called out.<p>

As she leaned against the desk in their hotel room, she could hear Hotch in the bathroom and the running of water in the sink. Despite saying she'd lost her appetite over the Morgans' PDA, she was, indeed, hungry. Luckily, this hotel not only had Rossi's _Italian_, it had Chinese, Thai, and even an African-themed restaurant.

When he didn't answer her question, she called out, "Aaron?"

"Either one sounds fine," he said, his low voice causing a ripple of goose bumps down her spine.

Hearing the voice come closer, she looked over, and her breath caught in her throat. Hotch was coming toward her, his shirt unbuttoned to the waist, revealing the soft, curling hairs she loved to touch on his chest and his abdomen. His belt was unbuckled and his trousers unfastened, the dark blue of his boxer briefs just showing through the opening.

Emily brought her gaze up to his, and then blinked twice. It didn't matter how many times she saw him undressed—or in this case, nearly undressed—it floored her every single time. Something inside her reacted to him like fire and gasoline—purely explosive.

"I thought I'd change clothes, get comfortable, and then we'd think about dinner," he said, arching a brow, his look just the slightest bit smug. He had the right to be smug, she thought; he'd caught her drooling.

"Oh, fine, fine," Em said, putting the hotel menu down. "That sounds...agreeable."

She tried very hard not to show how hot and bothered she was. Seriously. She was a grown woman who knew her own appeal and strength. An engaged woman, with the power to withstand pressure from any angle...even an incredibly sexy, unbuttoned down angle. She could be dignified and respectable, instead of a panting animal, even under such dire circumstances.

Unfortunately, even though Em was in Vegas, her poker face still sucked.

Still smirking just slightly, Hotch stopped and sat on the edge of the bed closest to her. "I'd thought you would see it that way," he said, starting to remove his shoes.

"What way?" she asked, giving him a suspicious, sidelong look.

One shoe hit the floor, and then he started on the other. "The reasonable, adult thing to do would be to get comfortable, have dinner...and then see how the night progresses."

Emily glared at him. "Reasonable?"

He shrugged his shirt off and folded it neatly in half before placing it aside. "Of course."

"_Adult?_"

He stood and unzipped his pants, letting them drop to the ground. "Yes. I know I can count on you to be reserved—"

"That's it," she growled, interrupting him as she stepped away from the desk. "You're going down, Hotchner."

Em took a running leap and launched herself toward him.

Hotch caught her in midair, laughing as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Em lowered her mouth to his, catching his mouth in an animalistic, very _un_reserved kiss. She thrust her fingers in his thick, dark hair and held on, bringing herself closer to him with the intent to possess him.

He moaned, she moaned, and momentum carried them both backward until they fell onto the bed. Hotch rolled her under him, kissing her with new found intensity and passion. Her whole body tingled, and she felt on fire.

When he broke the kiss to strip her out of her slacks, she muttered huskily, "You just set me up, didn't you?"

As he returned to her upper body, he gave her a forthright look. "Yes, I did."

Her lips curved into a decidedly feline smile, and she looped her arms around his shoulders. "Good..."

* * *

><p>In the elevator on the way up to their room, Dave kissed JJ's wrist and murmured under his breath, "Ah, elevators. A great place for love..."<p>

JJ's cheeks flushed two shades of red as she remembered a rather recent, torrid kiss in an elevator. They'd lost their heads, staying in that elevator long after they'd arrived at the parking garage after work. However, _that_ wouldn't be happening here. There was a woman with a dog in her purse riding with them...and they were both giving them hostile glances.

"Behave," JJ said, giving him a chastising look.

He smiled at her, and then kissed the spot again, letting his goatee tickle the sensitive skin there, devil that he was.

When they arrived on their floor, they started walking toward their designated room. On the way, they passed the spa.

"Ahhhhh, the jacuzzi," he said, a seductive smile curving his lips. "A naturally sexy place..."

Instantly, JJ started remembering the feel as he'd held her in a different jacuzzi, weightless, the water surrounding them, only slightly warmer than the heat they'd generated. Swallowing against the thickness forming in her throat, she said, "Naturally sexy?"

He grinned at her, that same smile that had stolen her breath away over fifteen years ago. "Of course. Jacuzzi is Italian; I'd expect nothing less."

JJ smiled and rolled her eyes as they continued toward their room. She noticed then they'd passed a pool table and a library, both places she and Dave had made love in the past. She began to wonder if he'd had a hand in designing this place!

Once they reached the room, JJ felt like her clothes were sticking to her, and her body felt weak with want. As Dave worked the keycard in the door, she said, "I know a really wonderful and sexy place for love, Dave."

She heard the click as he flicked the door open. "Where's that?"

JJ stepped inside and immediately dropped her purse and shoes. Taking only a few steps inside, she turned and smiled at him.

"The bed," she said simply, gesturing toward the king size one that dominated their room.

Dave shut the door and smiled wickedly. "Now why didn't I think of that..."


End file.
